


Let Me Be Good To You

by ThisWasInevitable



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Sugar Daddy, Anal Sex, Aubrey is a good friend, Based on a prompt fill, Campaign: Amnesty (The Adventure Zone), Collars, Duck is a good friend, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie, M/M, Meet-Cute, Oral Sex, Reader requests, Sex Toys, Stern is a firm but loving dom, Strap-Ons, Sugar Daddy, Trans Agent Stern (The Adventure Zone), everyone is just trying to look after everyone else, kind of, sternclay, the enemy is narrow expectations of masculinity, worlds most awkward sugar daddy Joseph Stern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 21:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29142519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisWasInevitable/pseuds/ThisWasInevitable
Summary: Barclay is a cook, one having more luck at work than in love, and who's been uncharitably described as a, "six foot tall puppy dog."Joseph is a world famous author (under a pen name, of course), a connoisseur of cryptozoology, and lonelier than he'd like to admit.When the two of them meet at New Years Eve party, it starts them on a path of close connection, kinky sex, and learning the value of being tender in a tough world.Oh, and Barclays' friends are convinced he's dating a spy or something. They mean well, though.
Relationships: Barclay/Agent Stern (The Adventure Zone)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 72





	1. Live to Please

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a fill I did during my winter prompts that many, many people asked for a longer version of.

Fog oozes and swirls across the water, weaving up and around the buildings, blanketing the sky in soft grey. It would be beautiful, in a melancholy way, were it also not trying to slip through every crack in Barclay’s window frame and chill him.

He pauses getting his shirt buttoned to write down  _ fix windows  _ to the to-do list, right after  _ grocery shop _ ,  _ buy new pants (?), get rid of the last of the stuff J left here _ . It’s almost four now. If he can get the baking done a little early, that’ll give him time to run to the St. Vincents’ and look for jeans that aren’t about to rip. Assuming he can find some in his size. 

Stairs creak under his feet and the fluorescent flicker even more erratically than yesterday when he flips the lightswitch in the kitchen. He’ll add a trip to Home Depot to the list. 

The doughs from last night have risen faithfully. He turns on the coffee pot and sets his phone in the little speaker dock, Billie Holiday crooning to him as he ties his apron. This morning’s recipes are: cinnamon rolls, focaccia, butter cakes, mini monkey breads, and cupcakes (red velvet, chocolate, vanilla, and London Fog, the special of the day). If today is a usual one, they’ll sell out of everything by one at the latest. 

Mama credits the rush for Barclay’s baked goods as the driver in the Lodge seeing more traffic these days. Barclay points out that winter means more people come to the restaurant for coffee, and that Mama runs a damn fine hotel. Amnesty Lodge stands stubbornly set into the hills, a beacon to people looking to stay somewhere that has a soul and won’t bleed them dry for a bed. 

That being said, he’s proud of his baking, gets a rush of pride whenever a customer has a better day because of something he’s made. 

By the time he’s done, he has forty minutes to go look for pants before he has to head into the city for his catering job. He strikes out at the thrift store, though he does find a weird, pinned insect from some guys’ estate, pays a buck for it, and leaves it on the steps of Indrid’s trailer in the back of the lodge.

As he’s double checking he has everything for work, he spots another note to himself and dashes downstairs. Luckily, Aubrey and Dani are still in their usual booth, going over Aubrey’s magic routine for tonight. 

“Aubrey, do you need a ride home tonight?”

“Um, I don’t think so. We’re taking BART in, and if I get done after it stops running, we can just get a rideshare or cab or something.”

“Oh, okay. I just didn’t want you to be, like, stranded.”

“Isn’t your thing on the other end of the city?” Dani adjusts the bowtie on Dr Harris Bonkers, Aubrey’s giant rabbit.

“Yeah. Uh, like I said, just didn’t want to leave you two stuck out there on New Years.”

“We’ll be fine. Now shoo, go make those dollars.” Aubrey thwacks him with a stack of stickers with the words “Lady Flame” emblazoned across them. He ruffles both of them on their hair, and heads back upstairs to get his car keys. 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The things he does to pay off student loans. 

It’s not the catering gig that’s bothering him; he takes pride in making food at conferences and office parties better than expected. It’s the fucking white and gold uniforms they’re making them wear for this one. It’s hot, itchy, and he really would prefer to wear the cardigan Thacker gave him last year. It’s rustic but classy, and just the right thickness for coastal winters. It’s also sitting in his car, because no one told him about these uniforms until he got here. 

You can’t spring a surprise uniform on a guy who’s 6’4 and 195 pounds. The vest digs into his stomach, the jacket is too tight, and the pants don’t cover his ankles. 

It’s too bad, this party is pretty fun to work. It’s for a big-name publisher looking to seem hip, so the band is good and the decorations don’t look like Times Square puked all over the room. 

The meals aren’t sit down, more a five hour cocktail party with canapes on trays and a spread of food at the back. Barclay sets out a new plate of crostini, wondering if they have enough fruit for the evening, when someone taps his shoulder. 

“How can I help-”

“I need a refill.” James smirks at him. It’s the exact same expression he wore when they broke up. 

“Not the bartender.” Barclay picks up an empty tray. 

“So?”

“I stopped being the guy to refill your drinks when you dumped me. Go ask whatever poor sap you dragged to this to do it for you.”

“‘Poor sap’?aJesus, Barclay, you sound like you’re in one of those boring mysteries you always read.”

“I’m  _ trying  _ not to swear, I’m at work.”

“Too bad you left me-”

“You broke up with me”

“-You could be enjoying the party instead of serving lukewarm food in a ridiculous outfit. Then again, looking like a clown suits you.”

“Man, c’mon.” Barclay can’t get into it with him here, James is absolutely the kind of guy who will get him fired. 

“Not surprised you haven’t found someone who wants to put up with your whole puppy-dog routine. What good is all that bulk if you’re just a pus-”

“There you are.” An arm snakes around Barclays waist and he freezes. James stands up straight, plastering on a smile.

The voice attached to the arm continues, “I wish I’d known ahead of time this is where you were working tonight. It feels wrong to be out mingling when you’re stuck back here. Oh well, next year.” A soft kiss lands on his cheek and in his surprise he turns to discover the source. 

The man is almost his height, trimmer and dressed in a black suit with a blue and silver tie. He’s blue eyed, with jet black hair slicked back and a face that puts every movie star Barclay can name to shame. 

Barclay has no fucking clue who he is. Maybe he’s mistaking Barclay for someone else? He doesn’t seem drunk enough for that.

“Mr. Stern, it’s an honor to meet you, I, uh, this-”

“This must be the ex you told me about, right, big guy?” Mr. Stern sets a protective hand at the small of his back as he wonders how he clocked the perfect pet name right away.

It only seems polite, and more than a little fun, to play along. “Uh, yeah. Babe, this is James.”

“So, James, where at Penguin do you work?”

“I, um, oh, look, someone is calling me. Bye, Barclay, nice seeing you again.”

The hand doesn't leave his back until James is out of sight.

“I’m sorry. He was harassing you and that seemed the fastest way to make him stop.” Mr. Stern is still standing proud, but his voice is now softer, almost shy. 

“That’s, uh, that’s totally fine. I really appreciate the help. Kinda surprise you saw flirting as more appealing than, like, pretending to be my boss or something.” Barclay scratches the back of his head. 

“He’d know I wasn’t, trust me. And don’t sell yourself short, Barclay.” Blue eyes lock onto him, scanning all the way to his feet, “even a bad fitting uniform can’t hide your charm.”

“Th-thanks.” He’s either going to hide behind the serving tray or ask this guy to take him home with him. He’s not sure which will reinforce Jame’s “puppy dog” taunt--and scare Mr.Stern off-- more.

The other man, sensing his discomfort, steps back, “Sorry, that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t flirt with someone who’s at work and can’t escape. Or keep you from doing what you need to do.”

“I get off at eleven.” He thwacks the tray over his mouth, “ow. Uh, and I don’t mind talking to you. If you want to. I, uh, I don’t want you to feel like you have to spend the whole party chatting with the help instead of having fun.”

“I don’t, trust me. I want to talk more.” A sigh, “All the same, I should go mingle. It’s really okay if I come back?”

“Yeah.” Barclay smiles to curb his enthusiasm. There’s no way this guy is coming back; if he’s here single, he’ll have a date in the next five minutes. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s standing a respectful distance away and asking Barclay how this compares to other parties he’s worked. 

“Middle-ground. It’s not the one time I got to work my friend's art gallery opening, and it’s not the wedding where someone tried to deck the bride with the chocolate fountain.”

“Oh my lord.” Mr. Stern stops an attempted sip to laugh.

“I was in the line of fire and was washing chocolate out of my beard for an hour.”

“No one at home to do it for you?” It’s not subtle, nor is the glance he gets over the rim of a cocktail glass. 

“Some things I’d rather not ask Mama’s help on.” 

“You still live with family?” There’s no judgement in that smooth voice, just genuine curiosity.

“Oh, no, Mama’s my...I mean she’s technically my boss but she’s also my friend, almost like an older sister. I live above where I work because she owns the whole building and takes in staff at as low rent as she can. It’s nice working at her place, since I can cut my hours doing this.” He gestures to the nearby table of season fare, “which means I missed the attempted kabob-maiming last week. Relatedly, I’m happy this isn’t an all you can drink party.”

“You and me both. Two years ago Dean Koontz threw a punch. I think it was at--oh, um, excuse me, work calls.”

This time, Barclay allows himself a moment of ogling as Stern walks away. The sight of his ass in those slacks should be put in a plastic bag and require an I.D to look at. 

They pick up where they left off when the other man comes back, leading Barclay to mention the name of the Lodge

“Wait, really? I love Amnesty Lodge, the food there is incredible.”

Barclay’s skin matches turns redder than the nearby wine, “Thanks. The head chef has been letting me do more of the menu and I’m really proud of what we come up with. I’m still mostly on pastry duty.”

“Oh my lord,  _ you’re _ behind those bourbon caramel cupcakes, aren’t you?”

“Yep. You like them?” He manages not to bounce in place, but only just. 

“I’m so addicted to them I will go out of my way to get one when they’re the cupcake of the day. Although it’s a pity you being in the kitchen means I haven’t seen you sooner.”

He tries to say thank you again, but it comes out a garbled squeak.

“Was that too far?” 

“Nope. Uh, it’s uh, just that I’m out of practice flirting or, like, getting compliments. They were pretty thin on the ground in my last relationship, and I haven’t had time to try dating since.”

“I see.” Stern’s face stays pleasant, but his eyes drip disapproval. 

Old habits of defending people--even ones who are dicks to him--kick in, “I mean, he kind of has a point. No one wants to date a six foot puppy. Guys like me are supposed to be all in-charge and shit like that.”

Stern raises an eyebrow, “maybe you’re looking in the wrong places.”

“Got any ideas on where I, uh, should be looking?” He takes a half-step towards Stern. The other man doesn’t move an inch, but gives him a proud smirk, as if Barclay passed a test. 

“Lots. And I’ll share them as soon as you’re off the clock.”

“Don’t I get a hint?” Another step, a little more honey in his voice. 

“No, Barclay, you don’t. You’ll just have to show me you can be patient.” It’s a new tone, laced with the promise of a hidden prize that Barclay will do anything to earn. 

He just manages to whisper out “okay” as Stern is called away again. When he comes back, Barclay’s setting out clean plates and more silverware. They talk about restaurants, about Barclay’s friends. How he’s helping Dani design a kitchen garden for spring, and likes bunnysitting Dr. Harris Bonkers on his nights off, and the time he had to retrieve Indrid from Pittsburgh because he fell asleep on the train.

“You’re friends are lucky to have a guy like you around.” Stern brushes a friendly hand down his arm.

Barclay endeavors to not go into full begging mode in public by looking at Sterns wrists rather than literally anywhere else on his body.

“What are those things in your cufflinks?”

“The Hodag. It’s a cryptid from Northern Wisconsin, and a really excellent example of a completely fabricated cryptid that nevertheless goes on to have a life of it’s own. It’s very common in small towns, since if it goes well it acts as a tourist draw. In fact, there’s some indication that even the Loch Ness Monster began as just such a hoax and-” He snaps his mouth shut, clears his throat, “sorry, I try not to get off on those tangents at these things. It, um, tends to get on people’s nerves.”

“But I wanted to hear the rest. I mean, I have a high info-dumping tolerance because of one of my friends, but also you clearly know your stuff and I have no clue about any of it so please keep talking?”

Stern’s face is full of excitement, and he grows more animated as he talks. It’s the cutest goddamn thing Barclay’s ever seen, and he saw Dr. Harris Bonkers as a baby bunny in a bow-tie. 

He clocks out two minutes after eleven. Stern waits for him near the doors to the staging room. 

“Are those the only clothes you have with you?”

“No. I have nicer stuff in the car that I planned on wearing.”

“Go get it. Here, I’ll walk down with you so you won’t have trouble getting back in the building.”

After jogging to his car while Stern waits for him in the gold and silver tinseled lobby, the older man guides him to an elevator. He’s pretty sure Stern is older than him; he’s a big deal, but he’s not a prodigy, which means he needed time to get so well-regarded in the industry. 

They’re so busy coming up with Cryptid-themed ice cream flavors that Barclay doesn’t notice the floor number until they step out into a darkened hall.

If Stern brought him up here so they could have a quick fuck, he’ll jump for joy. 

“My office is this way. I figure you might like changing not in front of your co-workers or in a bathroom.”

Damn it.

The office Stern brings him to is modestly sized with a huge bank of windows on the one side, facing out over the city. From here he can see apartments, stores, restaurants, all lit up in festive colors, christmas trees still dotting the little boxes of light. 

Stern locks the door, leans back against it, and nods at the clothes in Barclays arms, “Put them on.”

“Here?” He eyes the wide windows, the fact that the other man makes no move to leave or turn around.

“Yes.”

He manages, around the heart hammering up his throat, “Are, uh, are you gonna watch?”

“Do you want me too?” There it is, the immediate softness in his voice, and Barclay understands that if he says no, he’ll have his privacy.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He reaches for the vest, gets the first button open and goes for the second in a hurry. 

Stern raises his hand in a ‘pause’ gesture, “Slow down.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Stern.”

A gentle laugh, “Not quite, big guy. Were we anywhere else, I’d tell you to call me Joseph. But here..” he tucks his hands casually into his front pockets, “here you call me sir.”

“ _ Fuck _ ” Barclay battles himself to keep his pace slow, needing to be good but also so turned on he’s afraid he’ll start humping the furniture. He forces himself to wait a count of two between each button, gets his vest and shirt off without further instruction. Stern watches him the entire time in silent appreciation. His shoes and pants are more awkward to take off while standing, and he braces himself on the desk, not wanting to sit without permission. 

Then he’s standing there in nothing but his black boxers and the lights of town, laughter floating from the party while Stern studies him like a menu. 

“Fold everything and set it on the chair.” 

He follows orders, boggles at getting hard from someone telling him to fold laundry. Stern hasn’t even touched him. Is he even planning to? Or will he make him do all the work while he watches. Barclay can’t decide which option he likes better. He returns to his spot in front of the desk, hands folded in front of him. 

“Should I, uh, get dressed, sir?”

Stern pushes off the door, walking casually over like a shopper regarding a display, “That depends; do you want to go back to the party with your cock hard enough to hammer nails?” He glances down, then back up with a pointed stare. 

“N-not really.”

Stern raises an eyebrow. 

“Not really, sir.”

The smile in the dark room morphs from purely approving to ravenous, “Then we’ll have to do something about it.”

“Are you sure we should do it here?”

“Barclay, if we get caught, I’ll be twice as mortified as you. I’m only doing this because we’ve got this whole floor to ourselves.” He cups Barclay’s cheek and the cook sighs, rubbing his face against a warm palm. 

“Okay sir, I trust you.”

A moan curls up between them as Stern’s other hand runs along his chest, the first sign of ruffled composure he’s seen from him. 

“Good boy. You like to be good, don’t you, Barclay? You like taking care of people?” He’s petting his face and beard now, voice inquisitive and tender. 

“Yes, so much sir, please, lemme be good to you.”

“That’s very thoughtful, Barclay. But I think it’s been awhile since someone took care of you. Would you like me to do that?” A thumb is at the edge of Barclay’s mouth, pushes in a beat before retreating. 

“Please, sir.” The response is pulled from him, his whole being pulled magnetically towards Stern.

The other man shoves his right hand down Barclays boxers, sliding his thumb over the head once before stroking steadily up and down. 

“Holy fuck” Stern gasps, “a guy could have a lot of fun with this thing.”

“It’s all yours, sir.” Fuck, that sounded less needy in his head. 

Stern groans, tips his head to kiss across Barclays chest, murmuring as he does, “Is that what you want, Barclay? You want  _ this _ ” he speeds up until Barclay’s hands fly to the edge of the desk, keeping him from dropping to the floor, “to be mine?”

He whines, nodding.

Stern’s hand stops.

“Yessir”

It starts up again, “what else do you want, big guy?” He’s still kissing all over his upper body, tone nonchalant.

“You, sir, I wanna fuck you or, or you can fuUUUck me if you want, not very good at bottoming-”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Stern lightly pinches his nipple, “what else?”

“I want to blow you, and, and FUCK, I bet you’re a fucking great kisser and I want you to fucking boss me around as much as you want, wanna wear a collar, a blue one, ohfuck” Barclay scrapes his nails along the woodgrain, “fuck, sorry, that was weird-”

“No, say more” his grip tightens and to Barclay’s surprise he’s panting, “tell me everything you want, even it’s got nothing to do with sex.”

“I want, fuck, to be tied up and told how good I am, want to wear something stealth sexy out in public, want to fuck in a cabin” his mouth is fully ahead of his mind, which is concentrated entirely in his dick right now, “want to eat at every five star place in the city, want to drag you places by that fancy tie, have a new car, buy any cookbook I see, I want, oh fuckohfuck, sir, I wanna cum please, want to so bad.”

“You can cum whenever you like, big guy. But you have to kiss me while you d-” 

He cuts Stern off with a kiss, clinging to his shoulders and pouring desperate, deep sounds down his throat. Stern kisses back with precision and a pleased moan when Barclay cums in his boxers. 

Stern eases his hand out and Barclay flops against him, face buried in his neck as he rumbles out a thank you. 

“D-do you want me to blow you, sir?”

Stern kisses below his ear, “Yes, but that’s not doable right now. Unlike you, I don't have a change of clothes, and something tells me you’re a, um,” he bites Barclays ear, “messy eater.”

“Only when I’m enjoying myself, sir.” 

“You don’t have to keep calling me that. Um, unless it helps you come down.”

“I’m okay, Joseph. Heh” he smiles, inhales a minty cologne, “I like that name. It’s classic.”

“Thanks, I picked it myself.”

Barclay chuckles, snuggles closer while ignoring his sticky underwear. 

“You know, I can give you everything you want. If you want me to?”

“Some of those are really fucking expensive, babe.”

“You really have no clue who I am, do you?” Stern steps back, moving to the other side of the desk and pulling out a packet of wet-wipes, sliding one across to Barclay before cleaning his hands.

“A cute guy who should let me take him to dinner?” Barclay pulls down his underwear to clean the cum from his stomach.

The drawer shuts “Ever heard of Lucky Park?”

“No. fucking. way. I man, I know it’s a pen name, but there’s no fucking way. A guy who’s constantly on the NYT Bestseller list wouldn't fuck a nobody cook.”

“If the cook was hot and interesting to talk to he would. The kitchen skills help a little.” Stern winks

“ _Why?_ You could have anyone, you wrote _The_ _Peregrine Quintent_ and _Red Dust,_ jesus christ your stuff has been _movies_.”

“Now you see why James was so startled; I’m Penguins golden goose. That’s why I even have time to write books on cryptids; they know to indulge me. Plus I put out at least a book every two years for them and it always makes a fortune. Do you need to sit down? You look kind of lightheaded.”

“I’m fine, uh, just trying to make sense of it all. Also I can’t sit down unless you want my bare ass on your chair.”

“Another time. I guess you’re going commando for the rest of the party, but I think you can handle it, big guy.”

“Yeah, absolutely.” He grabs his pants, pulls them on, “holy fuck, this can’t be real, it doesn’t make sense. Why would you want to keep seeing me?”

“Barclay” Stern touches his arm, “it absolutely makes sense. I had so much fun talking with you, you’re such a, um, a sweetheart. And you’re built like a wet dream. If, um, if this is too much too soon, tell me to back off but I, I’m serious. I can’t remember the last time I got butterflies like this around someone. You clearly look after so many people in your life; will you let me look after you, at least for a little while?”

“You really want to?”

“Unlike some people, I like big men with a gentle center. You can be my six foot puppy any time. Wait, hold on, that, um, that came out weird.” Stern giggles and Barclay, now dressed, pulls him into a kiss. 

“I get it, babe. You wanna go show me off?”

“Of course. I’ll get my camera ready; we have to record your exes’ reaction.” Stern kisses his cheek, “after all, maybe this will teach him to know a good man when he sees one.”

James is nowhere to be found when they get back to the party, so Barclay contents himself with Joseph stopping every other minute to kiss him in a secluded edge of the room. And when the crowd counts down the seconds and the new year roars into the room, the author has him in a long, deep kiss before the voices reach “two.”

He asks twice on the way down if Barclay is awake enough to drive home (he doesn’t drink around co-workers), or if he needs Joseph to get him somewhere. Barclay promises he’s fine, stealing one final kiss before Joseph closes the door. When he gets back to the Lodge, he puts a new note on his list.

_Text Joseph tomorrow_


	2. Being Good

_Barclay: Home safe. Thanks again for tonight_

_Joseph: You’re welcome. Let me know when you want to meet up again._

That’s the last exchange he had with Joseph, the timestamp chiding him that it was the night of the party. He’s put off responding for two days, the fear of being too eager appearing every time he opens to that screen. 

It’s the memory of how pleased Joseph was whenever Barclay showed his interest that tamps that worry down. He pictures that smile, the shorter man stroking his hair and telling him he’s been a good boy.

_Barclay: Hey. Sorry for the wait. Do you want to meet up tomorrow?_

Joseph types back immediately and Barclay clings to the cracked phone case, hoping he hasn’t fucked this up.

\---------------------------------------

Usually, foggy days help him write. They generate the perfect mood contemplating the liminal, the strange, or the romantic. But Joseph keeps getting up to refill his coffee, or clean off a counter or table, instead of buckling down to work. Nessie eyes him from her spot on the couch, puzzled as to why he doesn’t join her for a nap rather than walking circles up and down the living room. 

To say Barclay is occupying his thoughts isn’t quite accurate. After one, frantic masturbation session in the early hours of new year's day, his slacks and underwear still half on as he fucked himself to the memory of the cooks cock in his fingers, it’s the _absence_ of Barclay that commands his attention. 

He’d made his interest clear, his desires known. Thought that they aligned with what Barclay wanted. But the silence has him second guessing; maybe Barclay thinks the age gap is wider than it is, or regrets their tryst, or doesn’t find Joseph as interesting as he finds him. 

The phone buzzes and he grabs it without looking, expecting a text from his agent. When he sees the sender, he sets his mug down with a thunk to concentrate on the exchange. 

_Barclay: Hey. Sorry for the wait. Do you want to meet up tomorrow?_

_Joseph: Absolutely. Dinner? Or should we work around your work schedule?_

_Barclay: I’ll be off a little after three. Do you want to come here?_

He assures Barclay he does, and that he’ll see him at four thirty just to give him some time to rest after work. They decide on coffee and a walk, a chance to talk over the structure of things before delving further into the depths of whatever this is about to become. The plan is agreed on, but the screen shows Barclay still typing. 

_Barclay: If texting you was the right thing to do would you tell me?_

He nearly kisses the phone, overwhelmed with the need to comfort the man on the other end of it. 

_Joseph: Yes, it was. You did very well, Barclay, both by texting and by waiting until you felt ready to do so._

_Barclay: Thank you, sir._

The word hits just as hard through text. He has deadlines, and they just agreed to talk about this before doing anything else. Were those things not true, he’d settle on the couch to order and praise Barclay until his phone overheated. Get him worked up, treat him so well that he’s whimpering and blissed out without Joseph even touching him. 

_Joseph: We can do more of that tomorrow, big guy._

_Barclay: Can’t wait, babe. ;)_

Barclay follows up the winky-face with the closest thing to a sea monster and UFO the emojis have on offer. Joseph replies with a heart, and sits down to write.   
\-----------------------------------------------

Barclay wishes he’d found pants at the thrift store so he wasn’t meeting a hot, world famous author who wants to treat him like a spoiled purebred in jeans with a patch in the knees. 

He feels a little better when, upon rounding a corner, Joseph is facing a boutique window and checking his hair, pushing a few stray strands into place with a frown. He’s in a dark blue button-up sweater and grey jeans, still somehow looks if he stepped straight from a magazine. 

“Hey” He keeps his hands in his pockets, worried that freeing them for a wave might lead to him pawing Joseph on the corner. 

“Hi. I assume that’s our place?” He points to the coffee shop announcing a new pistachio-lavender-cinnamon mocha, which Barclay considers even more of an abomination than the mint-cherry-cola latte of the summer. They do, however, serve the best plain mocha in the city, Barclays go-to comfort drink ever since he moved her. He orders one, let’s Joseph pay for it along with his latte. As they wait, Joseph asks about work, and Barclay is forced to admit it was very boring. 

“Barclay, I spent an embarrassing amount of time reworking a fight scene today and it’s still not where I want it; at least you had bread when you were done. Here you go” he heads Barclay off, grabbing both drinks and handing him his mocha, “do you want to talk here? Or we could go for a walk.”

“Think I, uh, I’d rather go for a walk. If we’re talking about what I think we are, I’d rather not have someone, like, live-tweeting it from behind us.”

“Good point.” He holds out his hand, and Barclay takes it instantly. Starts to blush at how little he hesitated, only for Joseph to twine their fingers together with a little sigh. 

They turn up the street towards the campus, peace flags and leftover christmas decorations waving in the wind. 

“So, uh, I guess the first thing I wanna know is, uh, is this gonna be a thing where you fuck me and then buy me something or-”

“No” Joseph shakes his head, “I want to date you, Barclay. The texting everyday, buying flowers, going to the movies kind of date. And, um, I got the sense you wanted sex to be part of that?”

“Oh yeah, yeah for sure. I just didn’t want to get too invested if this was a pure sugar daddy thing.”

“I mean it is, kind of, since part of what I want to do is take care of you. Or at least be very nice to you and make sure you’re not in dire straits, not that I want you to be dependent on me, but, ugh” he takes a prolonged drink from his cup and his jitters jump to Barclay.

“No that’s totally cool, I’m not going get pissed if you do nice things for me and I definitely get kinda turned on at the thought of you ordering me to let you take care of everything, wait, fuck.” He groans, unlinks their hands to scrub his face, “sorry. I’ve, uh, never done anything like this before.”

“Neither have I. I, in my head I was going to be very smooth in my proposal but as usual I overthought and made it awkward.”

“I don’t mind” Barclay holds his hand back out, “maybe we start with the basics of what we want and then go from there?”

“Alright. What I want is for a certain six foot puppy dog to date me so I can give him everything he wants. Including a dom. You?”

“I want to date a certain cute author and let him boss me around because I can tell he totally gets off on it. Huh. Wow that was _way_ easier.”

Joseph laughs, leans in and kisses his cheek, “Brains and brawn, how’d I get so lucky?”

He whines, presses his lips together hoping to quiet it. Joseph stays close, murmurs in his ear, “if all I have to do to get you to start whimpering is be truthful, you’re going to be a mess by the end of tonight.”

With that, he leans back and starts musing on what brawn really means, Barclay chiming in with the story of how saying “Brawny Paper Towels” in a certain voice makes Duck giggle uncontrollably. Their route winds them through campus, old architecture squashed up against apartments and storefronts. 

“Forget how quiet it is when school’s out.”

“Did you go here?” Joseph tosses his cup into a nearby trashcan. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t graduate. I came to study food science, and I was really good at it, but I could only get so many scholarships and shit before I had to go into debt. My family tried to help. I mean, we’re middle class, so they had some cash to send my way and a little saved up, but I just couldn’t handle the idea of them cleaning out their savings or going into debt for me. So I took on some loans. Then I couldn’t justify the cost to myself anymore, so I dropped out and started working in kitchens full time. Didn’t help that this place prides itself on being a stressful learning environment.”

“So I’ve heard.” 

Barclay looks up towards the main campus, “I didn’t know that when I got in, just that it was a really good school. My family was so proud. If I’d known how miserable it was going to be, I might never have moved here.”

“Where’d you move from?” 

“Northern Washington. Y’know” he elbows Joseph, needing to steer away from the failures of his past, “Bigfoot country.”

“Technically, that’s most of the west coast, and the most famous sighting occurred in California. But I take your point.”

Barclay chuckles, kisses the top of his head, “Nerd. What about you?”

“Grew up and graduated in Wisconsin. Moved out here right after college.”

“ _That’s_ why you say ‘bag’ funny.”

“I say it like a normal person, mister Pacific Northwest.”

“Whatever you say babe.” He loops his arm over Joseph’s shoulder, “mmmm, can smell Blondies from here.”

“The pizza place? I’ve never actually been.”

“No shit? We’re going right now, c’mon” He pulls the author down the street to the brightly lit, tiny storefront, the line curling and clumping out the door. Joseph laughs, not at his enthusiasm but with it, and Barclay cuddles up against him in thanks, the pair looking like all the other couples in line. He takes Barclay’s order recommendations, pays for four slices they eat on the steps near the college. By the time they’re done, Joseph’s kisses taste like pepper flakes and Barclay is ready to curl up in his lap and sleep, full and happy.

“Do you want to keep walking? We can go back to the Lodge if you need to.”

He would not leave Joseph’s side even if he was on fire. 

“Happy to keep wandering around.”

They weave up into the fancier neighborhoods, what were once first time homes for families now costing millions. On the way, Barclay points out different restaurants, what they’re famous for, which ones he loves and which ones he wishes he had the cash to try. A glance to his left reveals Joseph typing onto a list on his phone whenever Barclay names a place he wants to go. 

Annoyingly, time continues to move in a linear fashion, and soon it’s early evening. 

“Do, uh, do you need to head back into the city soon?”

Joseph shakes his head, smiling, “No. Home is much closer than that. In fact” they stop in front of a stately Victorian, painted deep blue and surrounded by a wrought iron fence that barely contains the ivy and roses roaming the garden, “it’s right here.”

“Holy fuck.”

“It’s more space than is optimal, but I fell in love with it and used the take from Red Dust to buy it. Do you want to come in for some, um” his hands slip into Barclay’s front pockets, “coffee?”

“Ohfuckplease.”

\----------------------------------------------

It’s exactly the response he’s hoping for. Extending his fingers, he juuuust brushes Barclay’s cock through the denim. Then he pulls out his keys and shows him inside. As Barclay is removing his shoes Nessie trots down the hallway, stick-legged and bug-eyed as she cautiously snuffles the visitor. 

“Awwwwww, hey sweet girl, your human making you wear a UFO sweater?” He holds out his hand, the greyhound sniffing it before licking at traces of pizza grease. 

“If I don’t, she fusses in front of the heater or knocks over my coffee trying to climb into my lap.” He calls from the kitchen, making sure the dog has water and setting out her Kong just in case. As he’s pulling out the coffee beans, big arms wrap around him, a beard prickling his neck.

“I thought you wanted coffee.” He smirks, fighting back a laugh when the other man hugs him tighter, “if there’s something else you wanted, you have to ask for it, big guy.”

“Want you to take me to bed, sir.” Barclay mumbles against his skin. 

He sets the coffee back, turning in Barclay’s arms. It’s a subtle shift to a firmer tone to start, needing to see how Barclay reacts, “That’s better. I don’t have many rules when I dom, but one is that if you want something, you have to ask for it. I have better things to do than play twenty questions. Like you. Understood?”

Barclay nods, lips parted in a little pant. And here Joseph thought he misremembered how responsive he is. 

“Come on” He guides the cook upstairs to the bedroom, shuts the door and turns to find him standing still but visibly shaking. 

“Are, uh, are there other rules, sir?”

He unbuttons his sweater, hanging it up, “You do what I say, unless you need the scene to stop or pause. Say red or yellow for those. You call me sir, but you already have that one down. But more important than the rules is this: when you’re my sub, all you have to focus on is following directions. I make the decisions, and you’re here for _my_ pleasure. It just so happens that pleasing myself means pleasing you too. Okay?”

“Yes, sir.” Barclay’s fingers twitch, so he gives them something to do. 

“Undress all the way and lay down on your back. I need to get some things ready.”

He opens the closet to the sound of Barclay stripping, pulls out the drawer of his dresser designated for sex toys and ponders his options. He knows he wants three, but which ones would Barclay like best? The magic wand, a prostate vibrator, and a masturbation sleeve win out. 

Barclay is every inch a Playgirl centerfold behind him, minus the swagger. He’s fiddling with the blanket, broad chest rising and falling faster the closer Joseph gets. He pauses by the edge of the bed, smiling gently when Barclay turns his head to fix him with those deep brown, puppy dog eyes. 

“Look at you” he murmurs, “lord, your cock looks even better like this. You can see it’s as perfect as the rest of you. It’s okay to touch yourself big guy, just not your cock. Not yet.”

Barclay’s right hand comes up to toy with his nipples, a soft moan escaping him when Joseph sets the toys and a bottle of lube on the bedside table. 

“I want to take care of you, Barclay-”

A whine, the cook wiggling his hips. Is there such a thing as a care kink? He’ll have to research that later. 

“-and part of that is knowing how to make you feel incredible. I want you to cum for me, using one of these, so I can see what you like. Which toy do you want?”

“T-the sleeve, sir.”

Joseph hands it to him, crawls onto the bed by his feet, blushing at the way Barclay immediately rolls so he can keep him in sight. 

“Spread your legs, sweet boy. There we go, I want a good view.”

Barclay throws his legs apart, strokes his cock enough to get it hard before shoving the toy down with an obscene pop of pressure and squelch of lube. His legs shudder and jerk, hand working the toy up and down fast and rough. Squashed moans come from the pillows, and he notices the cook is covering his mouth.

“You can make noise, big guy, you can talk all you want.” He drags his hands up hairy, thick thighs, “I want to know you’re feeling good.”

“Fuck, it feels so good sir, but, but I wish it was you.”

“Which part?”

“Any, sir, fuck, wanna touch you, wanna get my hands on your dick, wanna see what your lips look like around my cock.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” His tone is much calmer than the rest of him, his heart beating double time at the cock bottoming out in the toy. Penetration is hit and miss for him, but given the amount of jealousy he feels towards that cocksleeve, he puts it in the “to try with Barclay” category. 

Barclay’s moans turn to grunts, the erratic jerks of his hips suggesting he’s close. The initial plan was to wait for him to cum and then teach him how to use the wand to make Joseph do the same. His soaked boxer briefs and aching cock have other ideas. 

“Pause for a minute.”

The cook stops moving, gritting his teeth with the effort. 

“Good boy” Joseph yanks his pants off, throws his underwear after them. Barclay’s eyes, closed in concentration, fly open as he straddles his chest. 

“Ohhhhhhhhhfuck, sir, yes, yes” He tilts his head up as Joseph sets his knees on either side of his head, but the author catches his cheek and nudges him back down. 

“You have excellent manners, Barclay, but it’s not quite that time.”

“But I’m really good at it. Sir.” 

Someone getting sad-eyed at the thought of not going down on him turns out to be the world’s fastest turn on. He thumbs his dick, braces his free hand on the headboard “I bet you are. And you can prove it as soon as you cum.”

The thud of skin into silicone starts up, Barclay growling (seemingly at the fact it’s taking longer than he wants) and his other hand hovering over Joseph’s hip. 

“Can I touch you, sir?”

He smiles, “As much as you want, big guy.”

Fingers need up and down his thigh, slide up to his stomach in a directionless, devoted motions. Then they dig into his side as Barclay groans, a “fuck” popping from his lips as he cums. 

“Good boy” Joseph sinks lower, hesitates out of fear Barclay made need to catch his breath, then gasps out a laugh when the cook pulls him the rest of the way. 

“Lord almighty” he tips his head forward, fingers still stroking his cock. Barclay is messy, eager and very good at this. From the blissfully closed eyes, he’s enjoying himself. 

“That’s it, Barclay, you’re doing so well, that feels so AHnng, so good, come on, I know you’re dying to show off what you can do for meFUCK” he finally finds the right pressure on his dick, strokes it faster, “want me to cum on your face as, christ, as another reward?”

A muffled whine and a nodding head are all the encouragement he needs. He grinds forward, fingers flying over his cock, and cums with moan, Barclay petting his legs as they tense and shake. 

He flops onto the bed, boneless and stunned by his incredible luck.

“Whoof” Barclay shifts so his head is on Joseph’s chest, “fucking-a, babe, if it’s like that every time, my dick is gonna combust from how fucking hot it is.”

“It better not, I have plans for it.”

Barclay growls, playfully, and snuggles closer. Joseph kisses his face, news before he can kiss anywhere else. 

The cook yawns a moment later, “I’m with you there, babe. Wait, fuck, what time is it?”

He sits up for a peek at his Roswell clock “Little after ten.” 

“Fuuuuck.” Barclay stays burrowed against him, “I gotta head back to the lodge and get some sleep. I gotta be up in six hours. But I don’t wanna leave.”

“I’d rather not find out what happens if I prevent Ms. Cobb from having baked goods to sell tomorrow. Do you want me to call you a ride? Or I can drive you myself.”

“Wouldn’t turn down, like, a cab.”

Joseph finds his phone, and they get cleaned up and dressed enough so he’s not giving the cab driver a show when he opens the door to see Barclay out. He kisses him goodbye, promises him they’ll meet up again this weekend. By the time Joseph rinses off and gets into bed, Nessie snoozing on her giant, blue pillow on the floor, there’s a text telling him Barclay is home safe, and the smell of pine soap ghosting along his covers as he falls asleep. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Aw hell yeah, look, they added some slot cars. Used to do that all the time back home.” Duck cranes his neck for a better look at the new attraction in “Nuts About Putts.” It’s their go-to mini-golf spot, because it’s cheap and the holes all resemble local landmarks. They also didn’t ban Aubrey after Dr Harris Bonkers got loose and ate the Ferry Building, so they’re good people in his book. 

“Oooh, I’m so excited, it’s been AGES since we had a triple date!” Aubrey bounces on her toes. 

“Yeah, because Barclay was the only other one partnered up, James was a dick and none of us wanted him around.” Dani frowns, checking her phone. 

“The time Duck ‘accidentally’ banked a shot off his back was rather impressive.” Indrid spins a ring on his finger, smiles when his boyfriend kisses his cheek.

“Uhhh, looks like we’re just a double-date” Dani turns her screen, “Hollis broke their ankle and Jake is with them at the hospital.”

“Damn”

“Oh dear.”

“Aw, beans.” Aubrey crosses her arms, then rapidly flings them back out, “holy shit, look who’s here.”

Barclay walks through the door, holding hands with a good-looking guy in a grey jacket. 

“That’s the guy, right?” Aubrey whispers.

“Yeah, that’s Joseph. He introduced himself to me a few days ago when he came to meet Barclay at work.” Dani whispers back. Turning her head, she and Aubrey are face to face. Her girlfriend smirks and kisses her nose.

“Should we wave?” 

“They’re gonna be behind us in line, ‘Drid, think we’ll be hard to miss.”

It’s then that Barclay notices him, and for a second he looks...nervous? Maybe just surprised. Either way, he’s smiling when he comes up to join them. 

“Hey! Didn’t know you’d be here. Uh, this, uh, this is my boyfriend, Joseph. Babe, this is Duck, Indrid, Aubrey, and Dani.”

“Dani and I met at the Lodge, and it’s a pleasure to meet everyone else. Barclay talks about you all a lot. I’m glad he has such good friends.”

Barclay turns bright red, and he clears his throat, “Thought Hollis and Jake were coming.”

“They had a fairly predictable accident.” Indrid cocks his head, “and we have two spare tickets as a result. Would you like to join us?”

“I, uh, I mean, I don’t wanna like, be weird since I’m on a date.”

Dani smiles, “Dude, it’s a triple date. If you think I’m not gonna be kissing my girlfriend while Duck takes forever to reach a hole-”

“Hey!”

“-point is, if you guys want to join, that’d be great!”

Barclay looks at Joseph, then immediately looks down, “Would you…”

“Happy to.” Joseph dips his head in a thank you as Dani hands him the tickets, reaches for his pocket before Barclay quickly shakes his head. 

They finally reach the counter to trade their tickets for golf clubs, starting out on the hole that’s a mini version of the Bay Bridge. Dani is terrifyingly good as always, Aubrey goes for bank shots, and Indrid falls into his usual game of predicting where each putt will land. Their standing deal is that if he gets the majority right, he gets to go down on Duck the instant they get home. 

Barclay tends to undershoot, trying to compensate for strength, and his date is neck and neck with Dani as they head into the tenth hole. He’s trying his best not to be awkward, is polite and friendly. But there’s no denying he looks out of place with them; a little older, a little more put together, a little stiffer. The awkward moments are worth it whenever Duck spots Barclay smiling and laughing like he used to.

(There’s a docile look that crosses his face when Joseph whispers in his ear, and he makes a mental note to keep an eye on that.)

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Do you need to go soon?” Joseph sets their drinks on the end table, toys with Barclay’s hair as he stands behind the couch.

“Nope. Uh, you want to watch a movie or something?”

Joseph is the picture of casual as he says, “go into Netflix and pick something out.”

Barclay grabs the remote, flips into the channel and discovers a custom playlist of shows and movies with his name above them.

“Holy shit, did you put this together for me?”

“Of course” Fingers settle on his shoulders, rubbing lightly up to the base of his neck, “remember what I said, big guy; when you’re mine, you get whatever you want.”

He gasps as the fingers move in circles up his neck, making the hair on it stand and goosebumps break out. How the fuck does that man move from casual conversation to his dom voice so smoothly?

Joseph, taking his hesitation for apprehension, pulls his hands back, “Sorry. We can just watch something, we don’t have to do anything else.”

Barclay reaches blindly back, knowing that if he turns around and looks at him he’ll melt and be absorbed into the cushions. He catches Josephs’ hands, squeezes them, “I’m game to play if you are.”

“I am” The hands return, rubbing his neck.

“Fuck, babe, that feels so good.”

The touch stops, “Is that how you address me?”

“No, sir.” Barclays’ cock perks up at his own chastened voice. 

“Much better.” The other man strolls around the couch, kneeling in front of him, “there’s something I’ve been wanting to do all day.” He reaches forward, flicking open the first button on Barclays’ shirt. The cook brings his hands up to help, only for Joseph to push them down to the couch. When the line of buttons is undone, he pushes the fabric to either side, dipping his head forward, kissing the center of Barclays’ chest. The kisses angle in a precise path up the his right nipple, one landing on it but not lingering as he continues up to his collarbone. Barclay tips his head back, anticipating a trail up his throat. Instead he gets one, brief and reassuring, on the lips before Joseph starts the mirror image pattern on the other side of his chest. 

“I’ve paid far too little attention to this part of you. It’s one of my favorites.” One hand comes to toy with his nipples as the dark haired man moves lower, kissing his sides, sucking lightly on his belly but never biting down. 

Barclay wants to say something about the view, about how the look in those blue eyes as they study his body drips warm gold into the cracks in his heart. All he manages are soft “ahns” as Joseph focuses on his navel, thumbs teasing the sensitive skin near his hips as his tongue skirts the waistband of his pants.

“Get the condoms out of that drawer.” He points to the end table and Barclay fumbles with the handle as his zipper goes down.

“Do, do you just keep these everywhere, sir?”

“Since I started seeing you I have. When I have such a good boy to look after, I don’t want to lose precious minutes running to the bedroom.”

“Wh-what did I do to get such a fucking AH” he bucks his hips as Joseph gets his cock out of his boxers, “amazing reward, sir?”

“Nothing. I just want to blow you.”

Disappoint must sneak onto his face, because Joseph sits up, considering him as he torments his cock with slow, calculated strokes. 

“Do you _want_ it to be a reward?”

“I, uh, fuck, I don’t want you thinking I’m annoying for always needing a reward or a treat or something.”

The hand stops and for an instant of gut-chilling anxiety he thinks Joseph is annoyed with him. 

“Barclay, if you like the idea of being rewarded, I can do that. Both because I want you to enjoy yourself and...well, if I’m being honest, my body and I haven’t always gotten along. The thought of you not only wanting it, but seeing it as a prize? It gets me going at an alarming rate. So, I’ll ask again, big guy,” he rolls the condom down, “do you want this to be a reward?”

“Please, sir, so fucking muchAHhhnnn” he whimpers as Joseph skillfully sucks the head, hand working the base. He clings half to the couch and half to Josephs’ shoulder, “thank you, sir, fuck, thank you.”

The author lifts his head, “Good boy. I’m going to let you fuck my mouth because you did so well today, introducing me to your friends. Letting me get to know the people who matter to you. Mmmm” he drags his tongue from root to tip with a deep moan, “you deserve this, Barclay.”

“Oh _god_ ” his feet scuff the floor, “oh god” he groans as the other man cups his balls, speeds up his strokes like he’s trying to start a fire, “sir, yes, your mouth is fucking incredible thank you for letting me fuck it”

A huffed laugh through Joseph’s nose before he sucks harder, yanking Barclay’s orgasm out of him that he lets out a garbled little howl as it pulses through him. There’s a soft kiss to his belly and a “good boy” before the condom disappears and there’s the rustle of fabric as his boyfriend wanders to the kitchen. He should put himself back together, but when Joseph gets back he’s in the exact same position, flopped back on the couch, cock soft and legs useless. 

The other man tidies him, reaches across him for his glass and holds it to his lips until Barclay takes a sip. 

“Do you need to cum?” He takes the glass, a faded sea monster circling up to it’s rim.

“No. I’m turned on from that, but I can tell this is one of those nights where I don’t quite have the energy to get off, even with such wonderful help.” He pushes Barclays hair behind his ear, “I’d rather spend the rest of it just like this.”

“Okay” a weathered, world-weary part of him is suspicious; sex in his life has often been tit-for-tat. Or, more accurately, tit-for-”why do you have that huge dick if you’re not going to use it?” 

Joseph pecks his cheek as he retrieves his own glass, fishes the remote out from where it clattered under the couch and hands it to Barclay. He relaxes, nestles against him and hits play. 

As the intro music for a show about ramen drifts from the speakers, Joseph rests his head on his shoulder. 

“Would you like to do more deliberate rewards? Like I give you a task and then you get a prize if you succeed?”

“Hell yeah.”

Joseph grins, “Fantastic. I already have the perfect one to start."


	3. Wear My Ring

His first challenge comes from one of the more harrowing stories Barclay’s told him; the fact he once almost collapsed from a combination of exhaustion and dehydration during a dinner shift. Joseph debated making him follow a strict sleep schedule, but that seemed like it could mess up his work, or cut into his ability to relax or be with friends. It was also one degree more controlling than he’s ready to be, even in the context of an extended scene. Hydration won out.

The deal is this: Barclay will use the large, sturdy water bottle Duck gave after that incident. He’ll drink the whole thing through the course of the day, and send Joseph a picture to prove he’s finished it. If he does this Monday through Friday without fail, he’ll get a reward. 

Of course, Barclay could dump the bottle out. Or not even fill it and send him a picture at the end of the day anyway. But he suspects the cook will do as he’s told. Barclay is his ideal sub; he wants to please, wants to earn his rewards, wants to be adored. Cheating at the game would reduce his enjoyment far more than Joseph’s. 

Barclay’s done well the last two days. It’s Wednesday night, and his phone dings shortly after seven. It’s a picture of the empty bottle, held up to the lamp in the cooks’ room. 

_J: Good job, baby._

The pet name feels awkward on the keypad, just as it does on his tongue. It slipped out on the phone a few days ago and Barclay made the most endearing noise of surprise. Joseph compromises with himself; that pet name is a special one, reserved for when Barclay is being exceedingly good, or when he’s deep in subspace. 

His boyfriend has made it over halfway through the challenge. This morning, he asked if Joseph wanted to spend the weekend together, because the Lodge is closed for surprise repairs (Barclay offered to help, and was told by Mama that she could call someone in and to take the weekend to relax). Joseph, of course, said yes, and is already planning out things to do. Opening his phone, he taps in reminder to go into the city tomorrow and get his boyfriend a gift.

\---------------------------------------------

It’s exhilarating, setting an actual overnight bag down on Josephs’ bed. Barclay’s stayed the night before. This time, he’s getting here Friday night and not leaving until as late on Sunday as he can get away with. 

Joseph is finishing up his word count, earbuds in and fingers clacking away, so Barclay opens the fridge for a drink. It’s packed full, including his favorite seltzer and the ingredients he asked Joseph to get so he could make dinner tonight. 

He’s thumbing through the new _Cooks Illustrated_ on the bed when his boyfriend appears, heading straight to the closet as Barclay asks how it went. 

“Good. I’ve been hitting my word count for the last two weeks, which means I’m due for a dry spell. But, that’s all the work I’m doing until Monday.” He produces a square, black box, “do you want your reward?”

“Yes, sir.” He swings his legs onto the floor, and Joseph holds out the box. Pulling back the lid reveals a collar, leather on the outside and fur-lined on the inside, in a stunning shade of deep blue. It’s on the thinner side but sturdy, and there’s a bronze ring on the front. The implications of what Joseph could do with it hav him shivering as he turns the collar over in his hands. 

“Do you like it?” Joseph sits down next to him, apprehensive. 

“It’s perfect babe. Sir.”

A laugh as his boyfriend loops an arm around his waist, “It can be either, tonight. I thought it might work best to ease into it; just wear it around, then wear it in a scene, and then do something more intense using it. It seems optimal.”

“....Did you use those charts you had me fill out?”

“Yes. That was the whole point of the charts. It makes it easier to plan scenes that make us both happy and keep you safe.” Joseph blushes and Barclay leans in to kiss him.

“You’re such a nerd and I love it.”

Joseph’s lips curve up against his, hands cupping his face and skating down to his shoulders as he pulls away. 

“Will, uh, will you put this on for me?”

The other man takes the collar, undoing it and bringing it around Barclay’ neck. The fur is luxurious on his skin, the sensation of Joseph securing it creating a strange combination of safety and lust in his veins. 

“Too tight?”

“Nope, just right. C’mon, I’m gonna start dinner.”

The smell of heavy cream, wine and butter soaked onions, and pork soon spills out of the kitchen. Nessie pads in, snuffling at stray onion skins and trying to will Barclay into dropping a pork chop by fixing him with that eerie stare of hers. 

Joseph picks out a red wine to go with pork chops on a bed of risotto, compliments the meal so thoroughly Barclay wants to crawl under the table and pull down his fly with his teeth. 

They’re both a little too tired to fool around, the long weekend removing the urgency to get naked that might otherwise drive them. Instead, they settle in each other’s arms in bed, lazily kissing and caressing until Barclay can’t keep his eyes open. Joseph gently removes the collar, kisses him goodnight, and turns off the light.  
\------------------------------------------

“All I’m saying is, it’s a little weird to me that the guy was so vague about what he does.” Aubrey moves her pieces across the board. 

“Perhaps he writes things he thinks other people would disapprove of. Like computer manuals. Or romance novels.”

“‘Drid, half your shelf is romance.” Duck sits down, handing his boyfriend a fresh Strawberry Crush. 

“I said what he _thinks_ others will disapprove of. But I agree, he seemed far more interested in learning about us than talking about himself.”

“He sounds pretty chill, from what Barclay says.” Jake pulls a card and pouts at the result. 

“He is. I dunno, sometimes Barclay looks a little...I don’t wanna say ‘cowed’ cause that ain’t right.”

“Puppyish?” Indrid offers.

“More like that, yeah.”

“Um, maybe he’s just happy?” Dani steals one of Indrid’s cards, “he’s had such shitty luck with guys, maybe we’ve forgotten how he looks when he’s with someone who’s nice to him.”

“That’s just it though. His luck is _terrible_! We’ve gotta be, like, extra sure this Joseph guy isn’t just being nice to him to get his guard down.” Aubrey points at Duck, “we’ve got to keep an eye on him. Find out what his deal is.”

“Aubrey, I am the last fuckin person you want doin’ that and you know it. Besides, we don’t wanna stalk the poor fella just because he’s nice to our friend.”

Aubrey sighs, “I know. I’m just worried. Barclay always looks out for us. I'd hate it if we fucked up returning the favor."

“How about this, firebug? We keep an eye on him, but otherwise let Barclay do his thing?”

“Okay. But I still think the guy’s like, a secret agent or something.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

Barclay sets the dessert cookbook aside; there’s a purple velvet cake recipe in there that Jake will love. But his “yes” pile now consists of six glossy, hardcovers, which means the price tag pushing two hundred bucks. 

And that’s before he gets to the new _Agent X_ and the back issues of _Lucky Peach_.

“Ready?” Joseph appears around the end of the shelves, shiny new book of crosswords under his arm. 

“Uh, yeah.” Before he can mention he can weed if Joseph needs him to, the author picks up half the books, hands the other half to him, and heads towards the registers. Doesn’t bat an eye at the total, passing over his credit card while he asks what Barclay suggests for lunch. 

It feels like he’s getting away with something, standing here while a man who’s drawn no fewer than ten approving stares while they’re out buys him whatever he wants. He’s done nothing to deserve this, not really, and if he wanted to he could follow it up with the lobster and champagne lunch, Joseph holding his hand all the while. 

The thrill creeps towards his dick. Joseph, indulgent and keen-eyed as he is, toys with Barclay’s hair while they stand at a stop light. 

“Lunch to-go?”

“Please.” 

“Please, what?” the hand slides possessively down his back. 

“Please, sir.”

“Good boy.”

Soon, a paper bag rustles on the kitchen counter, Joseph removing the take out boxes and getting out glasses for the San Pellegrino. Normally, Barclay would be beside him, putting plates together.

Instead, he’s on his knees by the couch, collar on and blindfold around his eyes. He’s not to move or talk until Joseph says. All he can do is be good, be patient. Now and then socked feet pad over and fingers gently rub the top of his head. Then Joseph retreats, the clink of dishware and squeak of cabinets filling the air once again. 

It’s not quite meditative, the effort of not moving or speaking like normal heightening his focus on the moment. At the same time, the soft fur on his throat and Joseph’s movement through the house calm him, lower him down to a space where there’s nothing to worry about. Joseph is here. Joseph will look after him. 

“Let’s stop there for now.” A ceramic thunk of the plate on the dining table, then the world is once again in view. Joseph is bent over, stroking Barclays’ beard as he sets the mask aside and removes the collar. 

“Okay, sir.” His blinking and breath are in slow motion. 

“You don’t need to say that anymore, big guy. Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

He rolls his shoulders, stands carefully thanks to the pins and needles in his right foot, “Nope, a little stiff but otherwise fine.”

“How’d it feel overall?” Joseph pulls out a chair and Barclay sits down.

“Really good. I want to try something more, uh, intense tonight, if you still do. Don’t wanna, like, jump ahead if you need more time to plan.”

Joseph shoots him a smile across the table; it’s the heart-stopping one, the one that replaces the blood in his veins with intoxicating anticipation. 

“Don’t worry, big guy. I already have lots of plans for you.”

\----------------------------------------------------

“Open yourself up and put this in. Then put your boxers back on” Joseph hands him a small plug, goes back to the closet while Barclay lays back on the bed. 

“Man, getting right to it, sir.”

“Not really. You’ll see why that had to happen first when I give you the next part of your gift.”

The toy is thin enough that it only takes him a minute or two to push it in. By the time he sits up, his boyfriend is no longer in his grey t-shirt. He’s in a white dress shirt, black slacks drawing a line down to the dress socks covering his feet. 

“Kneel on the floor.”

He thuds down so hard it hurts. 

“Good boy. Now, let’s get your collar on first.” Joseph joins him on his knees, gingerly guiding the blue leather around his neck. Then he grabs a second, black box from the foot of the bed, “It seems to me that if you’re going to wear a collar, you should have cuffs to match.”

Nestled in the box are two wrist cuffs, the same color and make as his collar.

“Oh.” He sighs, reaching for them.

Joseph closes the box.

“Thank you, sir.” He bites the inside of his lip, hoping those are the magic words. They are.

“Here’s what’s going to happen, Barclay. I’m going to put these on you, and attach them to your collar. You’re going to hold that position until I say otherwise, no matter what happens. If you succeed, you get to cum. If not, I’ll be the only one getting off tonight. Does that sound doable?”

“Yes, so much sir, wanna show you how good I can be.” His wrists are out, palms to the sky. Joseph secures the right cuff, then the left, linking them together with clips connected to a silver chain. 

“Bring your hands together really quick. Can you get these undone?”

Barclay easily unlinks one cuff.

“Good. If you need the scene to stop, do that and call red like usual.” He threads the chain through the ring of the collar, reattaches it to the other cuff, “beyond that, you’ll do what I say, right big guy?”

“Yessir, always.”

Joseph stands, loops his finger under the collar and pulls, guiding Barclay so he’s on his knees but no longer sitting on his ankles, “Don’t sit down, and don’t slouch. If you can be patient, I’ll let my sweet boy cum.”

Barclay whimpers, unsuccessfully tries to headbutt his arm, “Can I talk, sir?”

“Yes, as long as you remember your manners.”

“I will sir, I promise.”

“I know. You’re always so well behaved, Barclay. So good.” He bends at the waist, kisses the top of his head, and turns away. Sets to work organizing his dresser, 1920s jazz and blues drifting from his phone. 

It’s easy, at first. The excitement dulls any ache in his lower back or discomfort in his knees. Being able to watch Joseph, precise and particular, put his room in order is much more interesting than staring at all encompassing black silk. It’s not until the last item is tucked in its proper place that his arms twinge and he hisses. 

Joseph is in front of him again, hand on his cheek, “Color?”

“Green. Just a little ache. Wanna keep going, sir, please.”

“Of course.” With that he leaves the room, returns with the laundry hamper and dumps it on the bed. Barclay is suddenly very glad he lives alone and washes his clothes regularly; were the pile any bigger, his endurance might be in trouble. 

Socks are balled up in pairs, shirts go to roost on hangers. Joseph pauses, reaching into his pocket for what Barclay assumes is his phone. It isn’t

“FUCK!” The plug vibrates, the shock makes him gasp.

“Barclay, you’re starting to slouch.”

“Fuck, s-sorry sir.” He forces his spine straight, thighs and stomach twitching as their muscles demand he respond to the pleasure rippling through him. His cock follows suit, hardening as the vibrations speed up. 

“There we go” Joseph sets down the jeans he’s folding to cross at stroke Barclays’ head, “you recovered so fast. Does it feel good?”

“So good, sir.” 

A playful tug on the collar and then it’s back to folding. The vibrations shut off and he sighs, the relief making it easier to keep his position, and that’s all he cares about now. He’ll do exactly what Joseph asked, because he asked it, because he belongs to him. He’s Josephs’, and Joseph is his, and this proves how much he deserves it.

When the vibrations return without warning he yelps, clanking the restraints against the ring. But he stays upright, keeps his posture perfect even as his thighs shake. When the last shirt is in the closet, the rest of his legs are doing the same. 

A chair scrapes along the floor, Joseph setting it directly in front of Barclay, close enough that if he tips forward his head will be in the other mans’ lap. When he unzips his pants, Barclay wets his lips, certain this is his reward. When the magic wand rests on his dick instead, Barclay blinks up at him with a confused whine. 

“I know, baby, you wanted to do it instead. Tomorrow, I promise, you know how much I love that talented tongue.”

“You’re just gonna make me watch, sir?”

“You don’t have to, you can look at something else.”

“Don’t wanna, please, please I can do what you told me and suck you off, sir.”

“I’ll thinkAHnnn, think about.” He presses the wand down, hips arching his dick tantalizingly close.

His stomach is shaking now, his shoulders and upper arms threatening to do the same. His cock strains and stains the front of his boxers, aching at the promise of what will happen if he’s good. All he sees is Joseph, cheeks turning pink as the wand grows slicker. 

“I’ve, nnn, I’ve made up my mind” blue eyes shine with adoring lust, “you can’t suck my dick tonight. But, ahgod, you, you can get off now. Keep your hands like that.”

“Thank you, thankyousir” he scans the floor frantically in search of some other way of getting off, the vibe won’t be enough. 

“Barclay, if you don’t cum by the time I’m done, you won’t get to at all.”

He grunts, scooting himself forward, elbows braced on Josephs’ thigh as he grinds against his leg.

“ _Yes_ , good boy, that’s it, my clever, perfect Barclay.”

The praise pierces him like needles, pleasure spiking as he buries his face against Josephs’ chest, wand buzzing in his ear. His hands are up, clinging to the dress shirt, and warm fingers curl around one of them, opening it so Joseph can kiss his palm. The tender touch in response to him rutting along expensive slacks sends his hips jerking harder. He’s whimpering and growling, mouthing at white fabric like a messy, needy beast, and for a moment shame envelops his mind. 

“That’s it, big guy, don’t hold back, you’ve done so well, you deserve whatever you want.” Joseph pants close to his ear, “cum for me, sweet boy, show me how good to you I am.”

Barclay moans, trying for Joseph’s name and landing in a mess of syllables as he spills into his boxers. It’s a rush, pleasure from the orgasm bonding to the joy of just how needy he was and how much Joseph liked it, and he keeps gasping and grunting out attempts at thanks as Josephs’ thrusts against the wand shorten and he cums with the most perfectly debauched noise Barclays’ ever been honored to hear. 

Both vibrators shut off, the chain hits the carpet, and Joseph slides to the ground, gather him close. 

“I’ve got you, big guy, I’m right here.” 

The reassurance puzzles him until he understands the shuddery gasp in the room is coming from his chest. 

“I’m, I’m okay babe, just was holding that position awhile, think my, my muscles are trying to shake loose without me.”

The world is a little blurry as his boyfriend helps him to the bed, kissing his face as he removes the collar and cuffs. The soaked boxers go into the hamper, muscle rub glides up his thighs and down his shoulders, massaged in with litanies of praise at how he did.

He’s half asleep from firm, soothing touches when Joseph murmurs, “I’m going to rinse off and get into my pajamas, okay?”

“Mhhmmhhh”

The percussion of water on tile draws him fully back into the world and he stretches, grabs his sleep clothes and pulls them on before promptly collapsing face down on the bed with an oof.

“That about sums it up. Lord, it’s only because of what my dick looks like that you couldn’t see my hard-on after the first five minutes. ” Joseph, bare chested, smiles when Barclay turns his head, “Sushi for dinner?”

“Uh huh. Like, a dozen rolls for me. Please.” 

“I’ll use my good judgement.” Joseph kisses him, buttoning his sleep shirt as he searches for his phone. He doesn’t order a dozen rolls, just a half dozen from the place Barclays only ever been once and still dreams about. They eat on the couch, discovering that Nessie thirsts for chopsticks and will steal and gnaw them to splinters when given the chance. 

“Hey, uh, Joseph? Would, uh, would you ever want to, uh, use a leash? With the collar?”

“‘Es” it comes instantly, around a King Crab roll.

“God your perfect.” 

Joseph swallows, wipes his mouth, “I already have one in mind, but I’ll have to order it. It should get here next week.”

Barclay loops an arm around him, summoning all the seduction his exhausted system can manage, “In that case, what are you doing for Valentines Day, handsome?”


	4. Rewards

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content note: Barclay has to safeword in this chapter, but aftercare is shown.

“Sooooo” Aubrey leans on the counter, “is your new boyfriend doing anything special for Valentines Day?”

Barclay covers the tray of cinnamon rolls, “Kind of. We’re doing Valentine’s Day observed the weekend after, since we’re doing that special dinner menu here the actual night and I’m on the hook for cooking. You and Dani doing anything fun?”

“Low-key night and home with a” Aubrey wiggles her eyebrows, “private magic show.” 

“Right on.” He grabs the spray bottle for the counter, then stops, pulling the little day planner out of his back pocket. He mentioned to Joseph that even with his diligent list-making, sometimes he felt overwhelmed or over scheduled himself without meaning to. If he schedules out of his week, even just one day in advance each day, and sends Joseph a picture of it, he’ll get rewarded come the weekend. 

Aubrey looks at the little black book quizzically.

“Oh, uh, just sharing something with Joseph.” He pops both phone and calendar into his pocket, “lemme just finish cleaning up and then I’m ready for movie night.”

It takes a half-second more than usual for Aubrey’s smile to appear, “Sweet!”

\--------------------------------------------------

“It was his _calendar_. Like, does he have to run his plans by his boyfriend now?” Aubrey drags the brush down Dr. Harris Bonkers back, the rabbit honking when it hits his tail.

“Maybe there’s another explanation. I mean, why don’t we just ask Barclay what it was all about?” Indrid shifts to the side on the porch steps, out of the path of a tumbleweed of bunny fur. 

“I’m still kind of nervous doing that. Remember when he started seeing James seriously and I asked him why he constantly let James say rude stuff to him without telling him to knock it off? He just stopped telling me about what was going on with them. I didn’t know how bad things had gotten until they broke up. I just...I want him to feel like he can talk to me, and if I start grilling him I’m scared it’ll happen again.” Dani rubs the rabbit’s nose.

“What if we grill him instead?” Duck brushes fur off his shirt, “he offered to help you in the garden for that big community service even. And I’m ninety percent sure he’s the one who donated to fix the exhibit hall over in Tilden, because he was there the other day and talkin with Juno about it.”

“Do you think he’s, like, trying to buy our favor or something?”

“I doubt it’s anything so ominous. Sometimes, when you’re getting to know a new group of people, it can be hard to gauge the correct level of friendly to be.” 

“‘Drid’s got a point. Look, all I’m sayin is that we have opportunities to feel the guy out on our own. I say we take ‘em.”

\----------------------------------------------------------

“You know, there’s no evidence that a seance was ever held in this room, let alone that it was its’ purpose.” Joseph whispers to Barclay as they follow their tour group down the hall. He hadn’t meant for their Valentine’s Day Observed to involve a trip to the Winchester Mystery House. Barclay simply mentioned he’d never been and Josephs’ excitement took the conversational reins, insisting that they were going and soon (and then immediately back-pedaling with a “unless you don’t want to, sorry, got excited”). Barclay kissed him, called him a nerd, and asked if he wanted to do that this weekend. 

They’re on the longest of the available tours, holding hands as the guides attempt to balance architectural history and local legend. Joseph is aware of the real story of the house, but keeps those tidbits to himself or, occasionally, between them when he won’t be overheard. He’s here for a date, not to ruin anybody elses' good time in a supposedly haunted house. 

Barclay is thoroughly engrossed in the tour, and whenever they’re in a kitchen space he’s craning his neck or bending his waist to better study the cooking tools of yore. It’s the most endearing thing he’s ever seen and it’s only because they’re surrounded by a dozen people that Joseph doesn’t press him up against the antique counters and kiss him silly. 

They finish up their date pressed up together in the window seat of a coffee shop, the kind with high ceilings and copper vats. They’re forgoing the traditional evening out in favor of Barclay cooking dinner. Joseph initially worried about Barclay cooking so much for him when they’re together, but his boyfriend genuinely enjoys it. It’s a way of showing affection, and Joseph likes few things better than sitting in the kitchen, talking as Barclay moves through the space with grace and confidence. 

Fog clings to the hills when they get home so they curl up on the couch, reading, while Nessie slots herself between Barclays legs and the couch cushions. He finishes his book, intends to get up and get a new one but Barclay is so handsome and utterly at home that he stops to look at him instead. 

“You’re staring, babe.”

“It’s the only logical response to how good you look.”

Barclay closes the book, leaning into his space, “smooth. Wanna see if I look better up close?”

Joseph pulls him over by the front of his shirt, kissing him because why would he do anything else? Barclay is perfect, is here in his arms letting out deep, soft whines whenever Joseph touches him. His kisses are chocolate-tinged, courtesy of the artisanal chocolates he gave the cook, and the air is rose-scented from the bouquet Barclay brought him this morning. 

A canine huff announces Nessie’s exit to find a nesting spot more suitable to her needs, and Barclay chuckles against his lips. 

“Feel kinda bad for her.”

“She’ll live.” He strokes his face, hoping to coax him down into another kiss.

“Yeah. But, uh, we could always take this to the bed. If you felt like, uh, like” a beard scratches his cheek as his boyfriend whispers, “fucking me on it.”

“You want to bottom?”

An eager nod.

“You’re sure?” He’s never brought it up, not since that first tryst in his office. Barclay left it a “maybe” on his chart and there are so many mutual “yeses” Joseph didn’t suggest it. 

“Uhuh. I actually really like it. Just not any good at it.”

“So you’ve said, and it’s as much bullshit now as it was then. And I’ll prove it.”

“Yessir.” Barclay kisses him hard, hips already grinding on his thigh. 

Joseph cups his cheek, “none of that tonight, if that’s alright with you.”

“Of course, babe. Shall we?”

Barclay strips as soon as they hit the bedroom. Joseph weighs whether he wants to join him, or stay clothed for now. It’ll be easier to move from the warm up to the main event if he’s naked, and he suspects the less time to think on his supposed deficiencies Barclay has, the better. 

They’re down to underwear when Barclay hesitates, “Uh, would it be alright to still wear my collar? It makes me feel a little more, uh, secure.”

“Whatever you want, big guy. I want you as comfortable as possible for this.”

The cook retrieves the black box, then pulls something from the pocket of his folded jeans, “I got this to go on it. If, uh, if it doesn’t weird you out.”

Opening his palm reveals a small, bronze tag shaped like a heart. Stamped on either side are the letters “JS.”

“I, I like knowing I’m yours.” Barclay gets quieter with every word, and Joseph steps over his discarded shirt to loop his arms around him. 

“I like it too. It’s perfect. Go put it on the collar and wait on the bed.” He kisses him, the sight of his initials on the heart searing into his brain, the heat of it making his dick ache to get on with things. 

He finishes undressing, joins Barclay on the bed, and sets his supplies next to Barclay’s legs. The cook is on his stomach, every inch of skin from his broad shoulders to his toes on display. The collar is mostly obscured by his hair, but Joseph reaches forward to run a finger along it, knowing the gesture reassures him. It also gives him an idea. 

“Sit up a second, I have something for you.”

Barclay obeys, watches with curiosity as Joseph produces his latest purchase from a tissue paper filled bag. The blue, leather leash gets an appreciative smile. 

“It’s just what I wanted. Wait, do you want to give it to me now? I, haven’t made it a week-”

“I know that’s part of the game. But the game isn’t the whole of this. Right?” Joseph’s eyebrows draw together as he steps to the edge of the bed. 

“Right.”

He relaxes, runs his fingers along Barclays’ beard, “There are some rewards you earn that’s true. But my affection, my desire, those are never things you have to earn. They’re already yours. Right now, I think this will help me show them to you. Do you want it to be part of this today?”

“So much.” 

The leash joins the latex gloves, lube, condoms, and harness at the end of the bed, “Lay back down.”

Once Barclay is situated, Joseph wiggles into the harness, pulls on a glove and coats it with lube. Teasing his first finger along the entrance, he murmurs, “Can I ask you something?”

“Babe, I’m so hard I’d give you my social security number if you asked.”

He smiles, “I’m not interested in that. What I am interested in is why you think you’re” he presses the finger in, Barclay moaning into the pillows, “bad at this.”

“KindaAH, a long story.”

“We have time, I need to get you to three for the toy to fit.”

“It’s, it’s just, every time I try it, I disappoint the guy. S-sometimes they want me to be really, like, maAAcho when we do it.” He pushes his ass back, taking the finger down to the final knuckle. Joseph takes that as a sign to start easing in the second one, “like, they wanted me to order them around or tell them to fuck me like a man, shit like that.”

“How annoying.” 

“No kidding. Or, or they’d, nnnng, want me to bottom like we were in porn. Talk the whole time and tell them how big they were, and I always sounded so fucking fakeAhhfuck” He tenses as Joseph tests the third finger. 

“Easy, big guy, I’ll work you open with two a little more first. I’ll take care of you.” He rubs soothing circles on his lower back, waits for him to unclench before continuing. 

“I just wanted them to be happy with me. I’d try it once, maybe twice, then give up on bottoming because it left them annoyed and made me feel like shit-OHhhnn, fuck, Joe, Joseph, babe, oh fuck that’s good.” He wiggles his hips as three fingers stretch him open, Joseph keeping a slow pace to both ease him into it and wind him up, “please, don’t, don’t wanna think about them anymore, wanna think about you, want you to fuck me.”

“I can do that. Sit up on your knees for me, sweet boy, and keep your back to me. There we go, perfect.” He mimics Barclays’ posture, grabs the leash and clicks it on before nudging his cock against Barclays’ ass. 

“Sit on my dick. Take your time and don’t worry. I’m right here.” He tugs the leash once, with barely any force, and a loud, sharp moan breaks through the air. 

“Please do that again?”

Joseph tugs a second time, Barclay following the motion down sink the first inch onto the toy. It disappears into him little by little, Joseph watching the process with anticipation, dragging his hands up Barclays’ chest and sides. 

“Do you know why I asked you about it?”

A shake of the head, one big hand grabbing Josephs’ left one and guiding it up to tease his nipple. 

“I wanted to try and identify the problem. The good news is, I have. See, the guys you described still wanted you to do all the work. To fulfill _their_ fantasies with little interest in yours. And that is not how you need to be treated.”

Barclay manages, through shaky breaths, to whisper, “you’re going to treat me different?”

“I’m going to give you what you deserve, big guy. You shouldn’t have to lift a finger, shouldn’t have to perform. You’re going to let go, let me take care of you” he pushes his hips forward, the toy bottoming out as his boyfriend groans, “all you have to do is look good and get fucked. I’ll handle the rest.” He kisses his cheek, smirking as Barclays’ ass wiggles under his hand. 

“Yes, yesyesyes, all I want, that’s all I want, want youFUCK, ohfuck” his head tips back, hair tickling Josephs’ nose as he buries his face in his neck, hips pumping steadily up and down. He keeps one arm around Barclays’ hips for balance and leverage, wraps the leash around his free hand to keep him close. He plans to stay at this pace, fuck Barclay long and slow to make up for all the assholes who didn’t bother to see what he wanted from this. He might even edge him like this, keep him woozy with pleasure while gropes and caresses his way from his hair to his thighs. 

A repetitive _clink-clink_ reaches him from under the deliberate thuds of the toy against Barclays’ ass. The tag, bouncing off the o-ring with every jolt of their bodies. Barclay doesn’t just want him to fuck him; he wants him to have him. 

He’s been given more accolades, more money, more praise than most people see their whole lives. Seeing his name on Barclays’ neck is the first thing to send his ego charging to the front of his mind. 

“FUCKbabe, yeah, _yeah_ , give it to me like that.” Barclay grunts at the sudden increase in speed.

“I will, shit, you take my cock so well.”

A whine, Barclay finding his hand and squeezing it. 

“Those other guys were fucking clueless, couldn’t see that what you want is for someone to take you, couldn’t see how fucking eager you are to be put in your place, which is, shit, on your stomach with your ass in the air.”

“Yeah, fuckyeah.” 

“Not me though. I know exactly what you need.” He growls, yanks the leash just to see the tag fly back and forth. 

“Yes, yesyes, you do babe, feels so good, so fucking AHHnnnfuckme, fuck me right there.” From the change in his moans, the curved toy is serving its purpose. Joseph adjusts his angle a tad so he can hit his prostate with every thrust.

“Fuck, fuck, c’mon, please, I’m, I feel real fucking close.” He tries to stroke himself, can’t manage with the demands on his balance, arches his back and keens when Joseph pulls on the leash. 

“I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. Come on” he fucks him harder, thighs burning with the effort of his thrusts, “come on, that’s it, that’s it baby, cum on my cock, be a good boy and cum with me inside you.”

His boyfriend practically howls as he spurts across the pillows. Instead of worrying about the mess, Joseph pushes him forward, down onto his elbows and knees, and reaches between them.

“Mother _fuck_ er” Barclay groans as the toy vibrates, ground into his sensitive ass over and over as Joseph rubs off on it. 

Joseph hunches over him, pushing hair from his sweaty forehead for a clear look at his eyes, “Should I stop?”

“Nuhuh, want you to cum while you fuck me, wanna take it, fuck, fuck it feels good” his ass and hips twitch as the aftershocks and relentless thrusts wring the last of his orgasm from him. Joseph moans at the sight, grips the collar and forces Barclays’ face to stay against the pillows, back bowed at an odd angle, the perfect one for him to ride out his own climax and cum with a gasp. 

Fumbling with the toy only makes it vibrate harder, so he settles for yanking the whole harness off and tossing it to the other side of the bed, unwilling to waste time between pulling out and rolling his boyfriend over to render him kiss drunk. Barclay pants, but holds Joseph’s head in place all the same to better devour his mouth. 

“That was so fucking amazing. You, I” suddenly strong arms crush him in a hug, Barclay mumbling into his hair, “I never thought it would be like that for me.”

It’s not the first time an admission of his breaks the authors’ heart, or makes him furious on his boyfriends’ behalf. Returning the hug from this angle is almost impossible, so he cups Barclays’ face in both hands, sits up so they’re eye to eye. They never turned the light on, and in the dim February twilight Barclays’ eyes sparkle like the treasure at the end of every fairytale. 

“I’ll always try my best to make things good for you. To make you happy. I know you’ve been hurt and disappointed, and while I can’t promise to never err, I promise to do everything I can to be what you need because I...I love you, Barclay. I love you so much.”

An entire sea of emotions cross the face of the man beneath him. Then he’s once again held as close as physics and bodies allow as a honey-sweet, cracked baritone replies, “I love you too.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Barclay has only himself to blame. 

He brought the idea of a cock cage up to Joseph a week ago, got so hard describing his fantasy that his boyfriend slid off the kitchen stool and did his best to deep-throat him while Barclay finished, first the scenario and then down his throat. 

He has to make it four days with the cage on, one designed so that he can move about his day (and go to the bathroom) with ease. But he doesn’t want it to be easy; he’s done so well on every challenge Joseph sets, he wants to prove to him just how good he can be. That thought, plus the sight of the cage the first night, had him so turned on he eventually went and took a Melatonin so he could get to sleep. 

The second day was harder, Joseph calling him as requested that night and ordering Barclay to talk with him as he jacked off on the other end of the line. Every fucking part of him tingled with arousal by the time they were done, Joseph promising him the best orgasm of his life for being so good for him. Day three was much the same, with the added excitement of Joseph revealing that he booked them a reservation at the most exclusive spot in town for the next night. 

Today, day four, is bordering on exquisite agony. For starters, Joseph informed him that he would not be getting release until after dinner, which starts at seven and is a seven course prixe fixe. It’s ten in the morning now. The last three days, he’s had work to distract him. Today, he has his boyfriend, wandering the house in boxer briefs and a tight, white t-shirt. His appearance and general bearing is that of a porn star right before the plumber or pizza boy arrives. 

Barclay feels more like he’s in _SAW_. 

Still, it’s the best kind of torture. He’s proving himself, the denial of pleasure until Joseph says so sending his brain into symphonies of arousal whenever he thinks about it. Joseph checks on him regularly. Barclay responds with “green” every time. 

Around eleven thirty, his boyfriend climbs into his lap, grinding lazily along the cage. He whimpers, moans, shoves his hands down the fancy boxer briefs and skirts them low enough to feel the slick on Joseph’s inner thighs. 

“I didn’t say you could touch.” 

He pulls his hands back, sticks the still-shiny fingers into his mouth with a pleading whimper. Joseph stops moving, studying him with calculating blue eyes. 

“How about this: I need to get off, but I want to hold you to your goal. I’m going to jack off, but I’ll let you watch. Does that sound good?”

“So good, sir.”

“That’s my sweet boy.”

When they reach the bedroom the shorter man stops, grins over his shoulder, “But first, strip down to you boxers and bend over the bed.”

Barclay eagerly obeys, splaying his hands out on the bedspread. There’s a pop of lube and then the thinnest of their plugs pushes into his ass. 

“Wh-what, what’s that for, sir?”

“It didn’t seem fair not to let you feel something before tonight.”

“Ohfuckyes.”

“You get twenty thrusts. Count them for me.”

“FuUUck-one, t-two, three” his arms are already shaking, his legs joining them by the number fifteen. At twenty, his cock is screaming for release of literally any kind. 

“Good boy.” The plug disappears, his boxers glide back up into place. Joseph pats his ass once, fondly, “now we can-”

The phone on Joseph’s desk rings out from the living room. 

“Shit. Okay, hang on, I need to at least see who that is. That never rings on the weekend.”

His boyfriend hurries out into the hall, leaving Barclay alone with his thoughts, an aching cock, and a box of sex toys.

He’s not going to make it until tonight. Not without a little release. There has to be something in that box that will work, that will take the edge off so he can get through the day. If he moves fast, he can be done with it before Joseph gets back. 

There’s a vibe with a narrow tip, and while it can’t quite fit through the slot it’s close, the vibrations strong enough that maybe, just maybe, he can find some way to get off without getting hard. He closes his eyes, willing this plan to work before he collapses into a begging failure at Josephs’ feet. 

“Ahem.” His boyfriend stands in the doorway, arms crossed. 

“I, uh, I-”

Joseph crosses the room in swift strides, holding out his hand, “give me that.”

Barclay surrenders the toy, cheeks burning as it’s tossed back into the box. The burn turns to white-hot shame as Joseph rounds on him, voice stern.

“You were doing so well, big guy. But since you couldn’t control yourself, you don’t get any more rewards today other than dinner.”

“But-”

“On your knees, facing the bed.” 

He whimpers, unwilling to fuck up further by pleading for leniency. The instant he’s in position Joseph latches the blue cuffs in place and links them together, trapping his hands behind his back. 

“You’re staying like this until I’m done getting off, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He replies meekly, tries to curl in on himself in shame. 

Joseph stands, steely voice moving around the room, “And don’t even think about trying to steal a peek. If I catch you looking, I’ll cover your eyes and ears so you’ll just have to sit there like the needy boy you are.”

Any other day, he’d relish the way Joseph keeps such a firm hold on his behavior. He’d see the new set of orders and warnings as a chance to prove himself, or to exist solely for Josephs’ pleasure, both things he enjoys. 

Today it’s too much. All he can think is that he’s failed, that Joseph is angry with him and disappointed and now he won’t even get to cum, he’ll be stuck like this for god knows how long and he can’t, he can’t.

“Red.” It comes out too quiet, he should have said it more confidently, now he’ll have to say it again, admit defeat again.

A thud behind him, the cuffs are unlinked and then he’s turned on weak knees to face his boyfriend. 

“What’s wrong? What do you need? Are you hurt?”

“I, I” tears threaten his eyes, “I wanna be done. I can’t do this, it’s too much, I fucked up, I’m sorry” his next breath is a shuddery gasp. 

“Oh, oh Barclay, I’m so sorry, that was too intense, wasn’t it?”

He nods, covering his face to try and hide how upset he is. 

“It’s okay, sweet boy, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Joseph hugs him, one hand stroking his hair and the other petting his back, “I’ve got you. Here, can you move to the bed?”

Barclay crawls onto the bed, fighting the urge to throw the covers over himself and hide. 

“Do you want to talk about it, or do you just need me to help you feel safe?”

“You, you don’t have to do anything. This is my fault, I suggested it, I got you all excited about it and then I couldn’t even follow through, I disappointed you.”

“You didn’t do anything of the kind, baby. We agreed to this and planned it together, and I should have checked in on you a little more.”

“N-no” Barclay tries wiping his nose on his shoulder, “I should have just done what I was supposed to, taken my punishment like a man-”

“Hey” The barest flash of steel in Joseph’s voice, “none of that now. The rules are that you do as you’re told unless you need to stop or pause. And you did so well, telling me when it was too much. More importantly” Joseph wipes the tears from his cheeks, traces gentle shapes on his face, “the rules, the games, none of that matters even a fraction of how much you do to me. I love you, Barclay. And I’m sorry if anything I did today hurt you.”

“It, it happened so _fast_.”

“Then I’m even more glad you safeworded.” A soft kiss to his forehead, “do you want me to stay and hold you, or do you want space?”

“C-can the cage come off?”

“Ohshit, of course.” The drawer of the bedside table flies open and shut. Joseph gingerly pulls down his underwear, undoes the cage and sets it far away, “do you need to cum?”

“Please.” He whines, hiding his face against Josephs’ shoulder as the other man reaches down. 

“You can let go, big guy, I’ve got you. Ohlord, that’s, wow that takes no time at all.” Joseph sounds amused but Barclay is too busy clinging to him with a pathetic moan to check. A glance down shows him spilling along Josephs’ fingers, which gently work him through the orgasm as their owner coos in his ear that he’s perfect, that he makes the best sounds, that he loves him. 

“Love you too” It’s all he can get out, his mind and body feel like they’ve been drained and squeezed and there’s nothing but pulp left. 

“M’tired.”

“You can nap if you want. Hang on, let me get you some water first.” 

By the time Joseph gets back, Barclay is under the covers, eyes drooping. His boyfriend stays by his side, petting his hair.

“Do you want me to cancel dinner?”

“No, I” he yawns, “I’m really excited for it.”

“Me too. I’ve been trying for weeks to get us a table, ever since you mentioned it was a dream to go there.”

“Awww, babe.” He flaps his hand weakly forward. Joseph takes it, bringing it up for a kiss. 

“I’ll let you sleep. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

“Why?”

“You listed ‘funfetti’ under comfort foods when we made those aftercare lists. I kept a box ready to go in case we needed it. Or you’d just had a bad day and were craving cake.”

“Wake me up when it’s ready?”

“Of course. Come get me if you need me, okay?”

“Uh huh.” He curls up, eyes closed. The hand doesn’t leave his hair right away. It lingers, even after there’s a jingle and a new weight on the bed. 

“Alright girl, you’re on duty as nap guardian.” A kiss on his head, and then the soft steps of bare feet down the hall. 

Barclay sighs, the last traces of worry leaving his body with the breath. Joseph still loves him. Joseph will take care of him. 

He’s safe.


	5. Oh! You Pretty Thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: Joseph refers to Barclays' chest as "tits" at one point. I don't really see it as a gendered term, but I know for some folks it is, so wanted to give the heads up.

The two squares of tissue paper rustle when he pulls them from the depths of his shoddy dresser. Barclay sets them next to his comb, hoping the temptation is enough to banish his fear. 

He doesn’t even open them until after work, washing his hands twice to be certain no dough or butter still lurks, ready to mar his one of his most loved--and _the_ most secret--possessions. 

He’d done it the first time on a dare in high school, the kind made by fourteen year old boys in basements on Saturday nights. The nightgown (really more of a slip, but none of them knew that word) belonged to the hosts' seventeen-year-old sister. They all laughed and whooped when Barclay stepped out of the closet wearing it. He must have looked ridiculous, already in his growth spurt and dark hair filling in the lines of his limbs, and he laughed right along with them because hey, none of them thought he’d take the dare. Getting the slip off proved tricky, and he snapped the right strap accidentally. He hid the white silk in his bag, washed it gently in the sink at home before stitching the strap back into place. Luckily, said sister kept her window open most weekends, so he waited until the room was empty and tossed the slip on the bed. 

It haunted him, a lacy-hemmed ghost he pretended not to see. The fabric, softer than anything boys were allowed to wear, whispering down his skin. His reflection, hanging on the back of the closet door, taken in when his friends busied themselves wiping tears of mirth from their eyes. The slip was too small, fit him badly, and yet in that reflection was the shape of something tantalizing. 

He ignored it. When that failed, he lay in bed frantically jerking off to the idea of himself in various ensembles he’d seen when his friends fought over a copy of _Maxim_ in the alley by the 7-11. As he got older he tried making sense of it; he was still for sure a boy, and he didn’t want to do this in front of anyone, or with any clothing other than lingerie, so drag didn’t feel like the right term. For awhile he thought it had to be a kink, but even then there were times he wanted to wear it and not do anything sexual. He just thought he’d look nice. 

Three years ago, he spent twenty minutes outside Victoria’s Secret before psyching himself up enough to go in and ask one of the nice women to help him find something for a girlfriend who just happened to have the same measurements as him. The packets of pink tissue paper hold the fruits of that adventure. 

Reverently, he opens them. By lingerie standards, their contents are plain. The underwear is black, “boy cut” in shape and, were it not for the lace detail along the waistband, could almost pass for fancy boxer briefs. The bra is much the same, like a sports bra with a too-deep v-neck with lace running down where cleavage ought to be. 

No one has ever seen him in them. No one even knows he owns them. Not Dani, not Indrid, not any of his exes. Sometimes its shame, other times the feeling that he wants this to be private, that keeps him from talking about it. 

He’s debated telling Joseph. At his most optimistic, he daydreams about sharing the secret and his boyfriend immediately offering to buy him the kind of lingerie where every stitch costs a hundred dollars. But Joseph is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and years of built-up shame over the ways he never lives up to the level of masculinity his boyfriends expect doesn’t crumble so easily. 

They’re going to the movies tonight, a special showing of _Bride of Frankenstein_ at the Paramount. It will end late enough that they won’t have time to fuck, so there’s no chance of Joseph seeing what’s under his clothes. Barclay can have the thrill and confidence of thin fabric on his skin without risking Josephs’ disapproval. 

(He doesn’t think he’d disapprove, not really. But he doubts he’d find it appealing, and that’s almost as bad). 

Before he can change his mind, he grabs the two black pieces from the dresser and his nicest plaid shirt from the closet.

\---------------------------------------------------------

“I mean, if the fire alarm in an old building is going to be faulty, I’d rather it be too sensitive than too dull. I was just looking forward to seeing it on the big screen.” Joseph hangs up his coat by the door, scratching Nessie’s head as Barclay pulls off his shoes. 

“We could watch it here. Even make it a double feature, since you keep telling me I need to see _The Invisible Man_.”

“I like how you think, big guy. If you can get us drinks, I’ll get the T.V set up.”

Barclay pulls two tumblers from the kitchen cabinets, mixes a scotch and soda into each. Joseph insists they’re the best cocktail to have with classic horror (“once you hit movies from the 80s you have to drink cheap beer”). 

He’s never once finished the drink, nor has Joseph. When you have your gorgeous boyfriend nestled in your arms on the couch in a dark living room, your mouth has better things to do. 

His mouth is currently busy kissing Josephs’ neck, the author turning in his spot so they’re chest to chest, legs tangling together when Barclay swings his up onto the cushions. As lighting crackles on screen, Joseph presses their lips together, nipping at his lower lip until he parts them. His tongue glides between them just as his hand slides down Barclays’ chest. The cook groans, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. It’s so distracting, the firm ass under his hands, the fingers undoing his shirt to tease across his skin, his cock stirring in his pants-

Joseph sits back, puzzled. Then his hands pull at the rest of the buttons too fast for Barclay to stop him, his own hands clinging uselessly to the nearest pillows as Joseph throws the shirt wide open. 

“You’re...wearing a bra?”

“Yep.” His brain demands he do something, anything, and when he settles on just sitting there, frozen and hoping this will be over with fast, it screams like a teakettle. 

“That’s new. I think.” Joseph cocks an eyebrow, “or have you had this on every time we go to the movies?”

“No, no just this time.”

“Did you want to?”

It’s not the question he expects, and it makes the heat under his skin a thousand times worse. Turning his head he mumbles, “sometimes.”

A firm, gentle hand on his cheek, turning him back to meet blue eyes with pupils the size of planets, “Why so shy, big guy?”

“I, it’s, I know it’s weird. It doesn’t match how I should look, and, and I’ve never shown anyone before because I was scared they’d hate it, or think it was all wrong-”

“Barclay, there’s nothing wrong with this” Joseph draws his thumb down the V of the bra, “if you like it, you should wear it.”

“Th-thanks for, uh, understanding. I, I can, uh, go take it off.”

“Why on earth” he toys with the straps, “would you do that? We both like it.”

“We? You, you mean it?” It can’t be, he’s dreaming, he fell off the couch and hit his head and is hallucinating. 

“Sweet boy, Barclay, love of mine, do you have any idea how _fucking_ hot you look right now?” 

“I’m” he sets shaking hands on Josephs’ “I’m starting to get some sense, yeah.”

The author repositions, full-on straddling him and planting his hands on the black fabric, “Lord, I write sex scenes for a living, how do you show me kinks I never even knew I had? The way this looks on you, I’m going to lose my mind. May I, um, explore?”

“Ohgod, Joseph, pleaseMMmmmm” his shoulders are trapped against the couch, Josephs’ hands holding him down just long enough to communicate that he’s to stay put. His lips demand a deep kiss that Barclay gives gleefully, the cook only allowed a moment to breathe before they’re on him again. Josephs’ kissed him so many ways, so many times. This one is brand new, his usual precision and planning replaced with messy movements that have no goal beyond taking. 

As Joseph feasts on his mouth, his hands devour his body, grabbing and stroking as if priming to pull him apart from the intensity of their lust. Nails catch at the hair on chest and belly, palms smooth over his sides up to his arms. And always, always they return to the black fabric, shoving under the bottom, slipping beneath the cups. 

When Joseph teases his nipples through it Barclay bucks his hips, frantic moans spilling into Josephs’ mouth. It turns up in a smile as his boyfriend repeats the motion, circling each one until it’s hard. There’s the lightest pinch and he breaks the kiss, head tipping back as he groans, certain that if he muffles the sound his throat will burst. 

“Oh no you don’t, get back here” Joseph purrs, threading one hand into Barclays’ hair and tipping his head down, “I’m not done with you, not by a long shot.”

“Ohmyfuckinggod” It comes out in a rapid whisper right before Joseph guides him into another kiss. He’s never seen him like this, coming undone with downright feral noises as he grinds on his cock. 

When he speaks again, it’s a breathless growl and a little laughter at Barclays’ eager, happy whimpers. The hand still on his chest cups his left pec, squeezing and pushing up, “I cannot believe I missed this, didn’t think to play with your tits sooner.”

Barclay melts just as Joseph freezes.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I should have checked about that…” his eyes flick back and forth, taking Barclay’s open posture and the hands pawing at his shirt, “...word.”

“I liked it, like it so much, Joseph, for fucks sake please don’t stop I might literally burst into tears if you doOOH _fuck_ me.” He slides halfway off the couch as his boyfriend surges forward, running his hands up his chest with a triumphant grin. 

“I won’t stop, big guy, not while you look like this, not while these perfect tits need my attention.” He gropes at fabric and skin, licks a line up Barclays’ throat, “this makes them look so good, they feel even better under my hands than usual.”

Every word is perfect, every touch comes like Josephs’ been spying on his darkest daydreams. Barclay can’t resist tempting him further, desperately wants to know what happens if he reveals the extent of his hopes. 

“Y-you should see the underwear.” 

Josephs eyes widen with a flash of desire and there’s a wooden _thud_.

“Jesus, babe, don’t hurt yourself.” He giggles, giddy from the fact his boyfriend dropped to the floor for something he thought no partner would like. 

“My knees will survive.” The author yanks open Barclays’ jeans, moans when he sees what’s been hiding. He tugs and pulls until they’re down, Barclay doing his best to help and kicking them off once they’re loose enough. 

Joseph takes a long look, gaze dragging from Barclays flushed face to his knees.

“Jesus _christ_.” 

Barclay yelps a laugh at the response and at his leg being practically tossed in the air to hook a knee over Josephs’ shoulder. Warmth covers his cock as his boyfriend dives forward, nuzzling and mouthing at its outline and tugging at the lace with his teeth. 

“Your call, big guy, you want me to blow you with these on or off?”

“I, I only have one pair.”

“That’s that, then.” His cock springs loose and Joseph laps at it, sucks on the head and grins whenever Barclay pumps his hips in reply. There’s a sudden, sharp inhale and he spots Josephs’ hand down his pants, working hard. 

Blue eyes brighten under his gaze, and he pulls off a moment, “Come on, be a good boy and play with your tits while I suck your dick.”

He’s out of words, has only sounds left as he plays one hand across his chest, the other petting at black hair in hopes of communicating to his boyfriend just how fucking far gone he is. His orgasm, which started gaining power the instant Joseph pinned him, barrels into him with enough force that his legs kick out. A grunt is all the warning he manages before he cums, white streaking Josephs face and spattering down to stain his underwear. 

“Don’t stop.” Joseph’s free hand braces on the cock, his face to the sky and utterly blissful, before his gaze snaps back to the bra, “those are _mine_ and you stop touching them when I say so.”

“Fucking-A, Joseph, babe, yes, whatever you want.”

A kiss to his knee “good boy. Fuck, that’s it, nnnngshit, _yes_ ” his whole body bucks and tenses, and he collapses, head on Barclays’ stomach, little shakes and “nns” escaping him as he finishes. 

Barclay cradles him close. As comes down the scene shifts into clearer focus; his body, dotted with faint scratches and sweat, hair a tangled mess and lips tender to touch. Joseph, still pink-cheeked and staring up at him like he’s a vision from on high. 

“Wow.”

Joseph smiles like a summer sun, pulling himself up onto the couch, “No kidding. Lord almighty Barclay, I never thought you could turn me on more than you already do, yet here we are. I can’t believe we didn’t discover this until now.”

“I never thought you’d be into it. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by bringing it up, I didn’t even mean for you to see it, I didn’t think we’d be fucking around tonight.”

“Even if it had, I wouldn’t have made you take the brunt of that emotion. It’s okay if we’re not compatible on everything. But I for one am glad you decided to wear something extra under your usual casual mountain man attire.”

“Me too.” Barclay curls up in his arms, lets Joseph guide them so they’re laying on the couch, “I...I’ve never told anyone about it. You’re the first person to know.”

“Oh, Barclay” his boyfriend pets his cheek, “is this like the ‘six foot puppy’ thing?”

“Kinda. That one was actually a thing boyfriends said about me. This…” he snaps a strap, “I was afraid they’d take it as more proof I wasn’t what they wanted. Or that they’d project all kinds of weird shit onto me just because I like how I look in lingerie sometimes. People get hung up on gender stuff-”

“I’m aware.”

“And I already felt like I had to make up for all the ways I’m not, like, masculine enough or tough enough and” when he looks up, there’s nothing but understanding and love in his boyfriends’ face, “and I guess I never thought I’d find someone who wanted the whole of who I am, and this was just one more piece of proof.”

“I think it goes without saying I want you, and am very into how you are in bed. But Barclay?”

“Yeah?”

“Please don’t ever feel like there’s some version of yourself you have to live up to, or conform to. I want you as you are, and parts of you change I want to get to know that version of you too.”

A flood of emotions wells up and he clings to Joseph like driftwood in the midst of it. The other man just holds him, lets his breath move from shaky to steady, tells him it’s okay and means it, and that just makes Barclay hold him tighter. 

The DVD menu replaces the music on the T.V screen, and in the black and white light Joseph sighs, “I meant to keep things tidy, but those underwear need to be washed, and I think I stretched the fabric on the bra accidentally.

“S’okay. It was so fucking worth it.”

“All the same” Joseph tips his chin up, “how about you let me buy you some new ones?”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Thank god for the Castro. The man at the counter didn’t bat an eye when Joseph walked in with Barclay on his arm. He just asked if they needed help finding anything, and pointed them towards the lingerie section when Joseph inquired about it. Barclay can finally find things in his size, many of which have forgone gender descriptors in favor of neutral language. 

He grabbed three things to start, asked Joseph quietly if he would pick something out for him too. It’s this last set he’s wearing now; It’s a wine-red bra that’s entirely lace and underwear that, courtesy of tightly stretched of black fabric at the front, leave nothing to the imagination. 

“How’s it going?”

“Good. Uh, do you wanna take a look?” He pushes the door handle so it unlocks and Joseph slips inside. 

“Lord, it’s like they were made for you.”

“Glad you like it babe, I’ll add it to the ‘yeses.’

“Hold on” Joseph wraps his arms around Barclays’ waist, chin on his shoulder to watch their reflections in the mirror, “do _you_ like it?”

“Uh huh. It’s, uh” he blushes, “pretty. Sometimes a guy just wants to feel pretty, y’know?”

“Oh? Is that what you’d like some days? To be my pretty boy?” Joseph purrs in his ear, fingers rubbing at the latch of the bra. 

“Babe, please, if I get boner here I may rip these fucking things before we even buy them.”

“Can’t have that, especially if we want to come back sometime. Alright, I’ll leave you be for now, big guy. I’ll be looking at collars when you’re ready to go.”

They leave with two bags worth of items, Barclay getting a thrill whenever he looks at them. The fog is light enough that the sun even peeks through, so they decide to have lunch somewhere with outdoor dining around a fire pit. As they’re eating, Duck, Aubrey, and Jake walk past on the other side of the street. They wave, and Barclay waves back, extra-glad the bags are unlabeled. 

“Do you think we’ll ever be able to tell them what you really do? Like, what you’ve written?”

“Maybe someday. It’s a closely guarded secret, even employees at Penguin have to agree, in their literal contracts, not to reveal who I am. It does feel odd though; I like Duck and the others. I’d like to be able to talk to them openly. I think they’d trust me a little more.”

“They trust you babe, I promise. They’re just a little, uh, on guard because of how James was.”

“Fair.”

“Duck and Indrid will lose their shit if you ever tell them. _Gold Dust in His Veins_ was their first date.”

“Aww.”

“Duck would not shut up about that cabin scene for, like, two days after. I’m pretty sure because he was trying to distract himself from texting Indrid every waking minute.”

Joseph finishes his drink, “Speaking of cabins, you know my deadline is in two weeks.”

“Yep. Are you gonna go on a retreat or hole up somewhere? That’s totally chill, even though I’ll miss you.”

“Not quite. Once I’m done, I’ll need a day or two to pass out on my face. Then I was thinking of rewarding myself for getting the manuscript done. So, big guy” his smile drips with obscene promises, “how about we take a little trip?”


	6. Get Away

“Holy shit, when you said cabin I kinda pictured something way smaller.” Barclay steps out of the car, marveling at the immense building that should be somewhere in the Alps. 

“I liked this one best, and the bedroom is perfect.”

Curiosity over what perfect means in this context is answered when he flips on the light in the master bedroom and cackles. 

“Babe, did you pick this because the bedroom is fucking Bigfoot themed?”

“Yes.” Joseph is unashamed in spite of the blush.

“C’mere you giant nerd.” He spins his boyfriend into his arms, kissing his neck.

“All the rooms are actually themed after cryptids.”

“You got a secret twin or something who works as an interior designer?”  
“Doubtful. I’m not the only giant nerd in the world, you know.”

“Yeah, but you’re mine.” Barclay brushes their noses together. 

“Of course, big guy. Make yourself comfortable while I unload the rest of the car.”

Soon there’s a fire going in the stone fireplace, the living room full of warmth and the soothing pop and crackle of burning wood. Joseph sleeps under a thick, woolly blanket on the couch, feet in Barclays lap. The cook sets his book aside, eases his way to his feet so as not to disturb him. They have a whole week here, and he’s got the perfect way to kick it off. 

He chooses the wine-red lingerie, adding two new pieces to the mix: thigh garters and stockings, both black, purchased because when he tried them on Joseph took one look at him and dropped his phone.

The garters comfort him similarly to how the collar does, the light pressure soothing without making him feel trapped. The stockings, once they survive the callouses on his hands and the fact he has fingernails, glide up his legs. Eyeing himself in the mirror brings a rush of unfamiliar confidence. There’s no one here but the two of them, and Joseph thinks he looks amazing no matter what he wears. He could walk around like this all weekend and no one could stop him. 

He checks the clock; Josephs’ been napping for well over an hour. Waking him up should be fine. Barclay reaches for his shirt, then stops. What would happen if he just started like this, with no reveal?

Despite the stockings sliding on the wooden floors, he makes it to the edge of the couch in one piece. Joseph is on his back, so it’s easy to straddle him and plant soft kisses on his face until his eyes flutter open. 

“Hey” Barclay murmurs.

“Hi.” Joseph raises his head, smirks, “what a wonderful sight to wake up to.”

“Thanks” he kisses his lips this time, adds a plaintive wiggle of his hips.

“Something you want?”

“Uh huh”

A thumb and finger grip his chin, “You know the rules.”

“I want attention.” He gets it out before his insecurity can stop it; he’s never made that request so bluntly, but it’s true. Joseph always says he’ll give him whatever he wants, and right now what he wants is _Joseph_. All of him, his attention, his touch, his affection. He’s a six foot tall puppy, and damn it sometimes he gets to act like one. 

A thumb runs back and forth along his lower lip, “Specifics, big guy.”

“I want you to show me how much you like me.”

Joseph chuckles, “That’s not all that specific, but I’ll let it go this time, since you’ve been so good all day.” He shifts forward and Barclay sits back on his heels, “I take it you want me to call all the shots?”

“Yes, sir. Just wanna be taken care of. Wanna know you want me.” He tries for another kiss and Joseph stops him with a finger to his lips. Not to be thwarted, he draws the digit into his mouth and sucks. 

“I do. Do you know something I like about your choice of underwear? It puts the whole shape of you into a different perspective, let’s me appreciate how handsome you are in new ways.” His other hand traces slow circles along Barclays chest. 

Barclay whines, rubs his face into his palm.

“You are handsome. Every time I see you, new adjectives come to mind.” He removes his finger from Barclay’s lips, replaces it with his mouth, kissing him with each descriptor, “Stunning, strong, breath-taking” he pauses, and instead of another kiss five fingers palm his crotch, “pretty.”

“Ohfuck” he rolls his hips forward and Joseph cups him more firmly, lets him rut lazily into his hand as he murmurs words so sweet they’d put a candy shop to shame. 

“I love every inch of you Barclay. And you know as well as I do I wanted you from the first second I saw you. I want you more now than I did then, which should be impossible, because that night I knew that if I didn’t get my hands on you they’d wither and die. Now I hate it whenever I have to stop touching you. Lord, the last week of writing was murder because I hardly got to see you, had to satisfy myself with memories of your face, your voice, those wonderful arms, those strong leg--when did you put those on?” His eyes are glued to the garters, his hold on Barclays face and cock tightening.

“Before I came out, sir.”

Joseph keeps staring, licking his lips. The gears in his mind are turning, and Barclay aches to know that the final product of their machinations will be. 

“Did you seriously not notice them, sir?” The laughter sneaks into his voice, egged on by how cartoonishly wide Josephs’ eyes are. 

“In my defense, they were not in my sight-line, and the rest of you is very distracting. But these are…” he runs his finger along the garter.

“Are what, sir?” 

“Better to show rather than tell.” With that, Joseph grabs his thighs, tipping him onto his back, his legs kicking out gracelessly in search of balance. The author grabs the right one, grips the ankle with his left hand and drags the right hand in a greedy line up to his inner thigh.

“Jesusfuckingchrist”

Joseph growls in reply, biting the thin fabric at the top of his calve. 

“Th-that why you bought me two pairs, sir?”

“It pays to be prepared.” He dives forward, kissing Barclays’ stomach, his leg now hooked haphazardly over his shoulder. Joseph buries a kiss at the crease of his thigh, tongue and teeth coming out to tug and slide over his covered cock, breath hot and already coming in pants. When his face lands on the opposite thigh he growls again, deeper than Barclays ever heard, guttural and primal. He shoves his fingers into black hair, pulling it loose from it’s styled swoop as he holds Joseph close. 

“Lord almighty the things I’m going to do to you” Joseph runs kisses down his leg, sits up on his knees to better worship the length of them, groping at the muscles and moaning every time lips meet skin. Kisses the top of his foot, drops it, and grabs the other to treat it the same. A laugh and moan try to leave Barclay simultaneously, the sound broken and ecstatic. Teeth dig into his skin and he groans, pumping his hips into emptiness in hopes that will earn his cock more attention. He’s hard enough that the underwear isn’t up to the job of containing him, the head threatening to rip it in two as it dampens the front with pre-cum. 

“Touch your cock for me, big guy.” Joseph undoes one garter, rolls it down and tosses it over his shoulder as Barclay strokes himself with a happy whine.

“Slower. I have the perfect thing for you, but it won’t work if you cum too soon.”

He loosens his grip, changes his pace so he can last longer. Joseph throws the other stocking to the side, pulls his sweater over his head and opts to drop it on the floor rather than fold it.

“In a hurry, sir?” He teases, Joseph leveling him with a look that reminds him of every teacher he ever wished would bend him over a desk.

“You would be too, if you were me.” His pants hit the ground with his underwear still tangled in them. It’s a transition that never fails to make Barclay stall out like his first car. 

Clothed, Joseph is the man he loves, as confident and charming as the heroes he writes. Naked, he’s every fantasy Barclays’ ever had. Every guy he wanted to pin to the bed or raise his ass for, every could-have-been that he blew by being too shy or showing his soft side too soon. Everything he could ever ask for and a dozen things he aches for but can’t name.

“Sir, please, I wanna touch you, please say I can.”

Joseph grabs his face, pulling him into a kiss. Because he hasn’t answered, Barclay keeps his shaking hands to himself. 

“You can do more than that. In fact, you’re so perfect that today, pretty boy, you get to fuck me.”

“You mean-”

Joseph grabs his wallet from the coffee table, “Stuck this in here this morning, just in case we needed to take a break from driving so I could suck your dick.” He opens the condom, gingerly pulls the underwear down enough to roll it on. 

He’s never, ever offered this before. Barclay keeps his hands on Josephs’ shoulders, excitement tremoring up and down his body. 

The author notices the shaking, lifts his face to look Barclay over, “Is this okay?”

“Mhmmm” He whines, nodding, brain to flooded with anticipation to make full sentences. 

“Yeah? You’re going to be a good boy and fuck me just how I say?”

“Any way you want ba--uh, sir.”

A loving smile, another kiss, this one more measured, knowing full well that it’s winding him up by prolonging the wait.

“Then come here and fuck me hard, pretty boy.”

Barclay doesn’t push him down so much as swoon and take Joseph with him. Long, toned legs welcome him, wrap around him the instant he sinks into him. 

“Fuuuck” Joseph rolls his hips, luxuriating as Barclay tries not to cum in record time, “should’ve done this sooner. That cock belongs to me, after all. Isn’t that right, baby?”

“Uhhuh, sir, fuck, it’s yours, all of me is.” He thrusts hard, groans when his orgasm inches closer.

“You can cum as fast as you want. You may belong to me, big guy, but right now I’m all yours. You deserve itAH, oh _yes_ , that’s it, come on.” His hands slip under the fabric to grip Barclays’ ass, urging him forward as he fucks him frantically. 

Barclay can’t make his words come; Joseph is everywhere, tight around him, hands groping his ass as if all he wants is to be fucked until he’s full, lips finding his throat, kissing his face, biting at the thin lace straps of the bra. 

He looks down, hoping to convey something. Joseph meets his eyes, frees one hand to cup his cheek. Barclay turns his face to kiss first his thumb, then his palm, tender even as each jerk of his hips makes Josephs’ whole body shake. No scoffing or telling him to knock it off with the sappy shit. Instead, another smile. 

“You’re so good, Barclay.”

“Nnnhgn” Is all he gets out as his head drops down, mouthing at Josephs’ throat as his hips stutter and he cums so hard his vision turns fuzzy. 

“Good boy” Joseph kisses the shell of his ear. 

Yeah, he is pretty good, isn’t he? Why stop now?

“C-can I get you off, sir?” He lets Joseph up enough that he can rest his back on the arm of the couch. 

“I can do it, love, you’ve worked so hard, fucking me like the sweet boy you are. Let me take care of this.”

“Please? I want to.” He kisses him pleadingly. 

“Alright, you’ve convinced me. Here” he takes Barclays hand, sets it on his slick cock and folds, “how about I do all the work, use you to get me off like a particularly expensive toy?”

“ _Yes_ ”

His hand is taken off the warm skin.

“Waitfuck, yes _sir_ ”

Joseph moans, pleased, and sets their hands back down. He guides Barclays’ fingers in a steady, rapid pace, pressing one finger down with a loud groan. 

“Right there, lordalmighty that’s good. Feel how hard you get me, pretty boy?”

Barclay whimpers in reply, nodding. 

“One of these--fuck, little harder--one of these days I’m going to lay you out and cum all over these perfect tits.” 

“ _God_ ”

“Make you wear this outfit too, tease them raw until I cum so you have, fuck, proof of how bad I want you for days ahshit, _shit_ yes.” He cums on Barclays’ fingers, rendering them slick and shiny by the time his hips jerk their last. 

The author flops down and Barclay collapses atop him, neither speaking until Joseph’s stomach rumbles. 

“Ugh, I am hungry, but there’s this stunning man in my arms and I don’t want to move.”

“You’re on to talk. You’re so hot, people flirt with you every time we’re out.”

“Do they? Huh, I hadn’t noticed. I was too busy looking at you.”

“Goddammit how are you so smooth?”

Joseph kisses his nose, “You make it easy, big guy.”

\--------------------------------------

“It’s weird not having Barclay around.” Aubrey, perched on the arm of an easy chair, polishes off her mocha.

“Guess he really does spend all his time around here.” Duck scoots over as returns with their drinks.

“All the more reason it’s good he’s taking a week off.” Dani adds. 

“He’s with Joe, yeah?”

“Indeed, sweetheart. Ah, which is why I hesitate to bring this up now but I, ah, I got curious after he purchased one of my drawings. The payment went through fine, but it seems...well, there basically isn’t any information about him out there. No social media, not even the kind set to private, no author with a matching name.”

“That’s kinda sketchy.” Aubrey’s voice suggests it’s a great deal sketchier than that.

“Maybe he’s just real private?” 

“It’s possible. Goodness knows there are people out there who’d rather not have everything available to a random Google search.”

“Yeeeah, but none of those people currently have one of our best friends in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.” 

“Fireblossom, Barclay can take care of himself. Besides, even if, and I’m not saying he is, Joseph is leading a double life, I really don’t think it’s the kind where Barclay is in danger. Here, how about I just text him and ask how the trip is going? He said the cabin had service.”

Dani types out a message, hits send, and sets her phone on the table. 

“...So, uh, how long do we give it before we worry?”

“Twenty-four hours?”

“That seems sensible. After all, he might be busy.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------

“Everything okay?” Joseph leans against the kitchen counter, coffee cup in hand, watching his boyfriend make breakfast. Usually, Barclay is happy, or at least content, when he cooks. Right now he’s restless and scattered, hasn’t even bothered to put an apron on over the silk pajamas Joseph bought him because a) Barclay shyly asked for them and b) they make him look amazing. 

“Yeah. Just feeling a little weird and, well, you’re gonna laugh at me when you hear why.”

“I promise I won’t.”

“I haven’t cooked away from other people for more than, like, two days since I was in college. It feels off to not have this big group of friends to cook for. Or look after. I..I guess I’m kinda realizing how much of me is wrapped up in looking after them.”

“Does that bother you?”

Barclay tips batter into a waffle maker (the cabin has more appliances than both their homes combined), “Kinda? I don’t want it to be all I do, but at the same time I like being the Lodge Dad. I like being there for people, I like making them feel at home. I just don’t want that to be all I do. Just like I don’t want everything I do to be about the two of us.”

“You’re allowed to have your own life, Barclay. Wait, shit, have I been taking up too much of your time?”

“No! No, I love how much time we have together. Sorry, I just got up in my own head.”

Joseph softly sets a hand on the small of his back, “are there things that you want to do that don’t involve me? Or your friends, for that matter?”

“I’d like to start teaching cooking classes, maybe. Or take up knitting.”

A familiar twinge in Josephs’ heart; how many things lead to this, to feeling as if such simple desires were too much to ask?

“Then you should. Not that you need my permission. And, even though we’re still getting to know each other, I feel confident saying your friends would want you to do things for yourself, not just for them.”

Barclay cuddles up to him, the kind of hug where it feels like he’s trying to fit like a teddy bear in Josephs’ arms. 

“Thanks for listening to me.”

“Any time, baby. Caring for you doesn’t just mean buying you things, you know that, right?”

Barclays’ voice is like honey in tea, sweet and melting into warmth as he sighs, “Yeah, I do.”

\-------------------------------------

“Any reply?”

“Nope” Dani sets down her phone, starts chewing her nails. 

“Whelp, now I'm worried. What do we do ?"

"Snuffle?" 

"Thank you for your input, Doctor, but I think we need a better plan..."


	7. Revealing

Joseph isn’t much for explicit photos. He’s a writer, so it’s no surprise he gets off on a well-turned phrase of filth than on dirty pictures. 

All the same, his fingers contemplate reaching to the nightstand for his phone. 

Barclay is flat on his back on the bed, cuffed wrists liked to the headboard. He’s in deep, metallic blue underwear, the back of which is for scant straps that allow unfettered access to his ass. There was a matching bra at the start. Joseph teased his nipples through it so thoroughly, mouthing at thin satin until they were hard and Barclay was begging for him to fuck him. But the fabric was now the unappealing end of damp, and so off it went. 

The stockings met a similar fate, Joseph dragging them down with his teeth. It’s trickier in practice than on the page, worth it for how hard it got him and the way Barclay laughed and squirmed as he did it. Both stockings are now torn. At this rate, he’s going to start buying them in bulk. 

Completing the picture is the collar, a slash of blue across a blush-stained neck. The leash, firmly wrapped around Josephs’ left hand, clinks against the ring and, at the center of it all, the tag with his initials catches the light every time his boyfriend twists his body or bucks his hips. Which is often, given Josephs’ master plan.

“This is the last one, baby, then I’ll fuck you full-on.” He lines a medium sized, ridged dildo up and shoves it in; Barclay’s already taken two smaller ones, whining whenever he finds himself empty. 

“FUCK” Barclays’ legs twitch on the bedspread. He started with his feet planted, eager to give Joseph easy access. The vibrate function on the second toy sent the limbs sprawling as Joseph reassured him it was alright to relax, that he’d take care of everything. 

“Sir, please, I wanna cum so bad.”

“I know. That’s why this stays on until I’m done.” He runs his finger over the outline of the cock cage beneath the blue fabric, “I have so many wonderful things planned for you, but I can only do them if you’re patient and wait to cum.”

“Fuck that’s deep, sir.” Barclay cants his hips, sweat trickling down his sides.

“The other one’s a good two inches longer.”

“Fuckyeah” 

Joseph snickers, “Maybe I should invest in some more spare cocks. Work you up to bigger and bigger ones until you took one big enough that I could see it here” he skates his free hand over the hair of Barclays’ lower belly.

“Yessir, that sounds so _fucking_ hot.” He emphasizes the point with the back of his hand against the headboard.

“Yeah? I could tie you up so you’re on your knees in the bedroom, facing the mirror. That way you could see just how big it is, how well you’re taking it, getting stretched wide and fucked deep like the good boy you are.”

He stills his hand, his boyfriend not noticing at all, too busy fucking down onto the toy, muscles of his thighs flexing. The mechanics of the scene coalesce in his mind and for a few seconds all he sees is the future; Barclay, naked, arms pulled taut and legs held apart, rug burning his knees as Joseph makes a bulge appear in the belly of his reflection over and over again. His cock throbs, announcing a flaw in his plan to fuck his boyfriend senseless and then cum.

He pulls the toy free, kicks off his boxer briefs, and smirks when Barclays’ eyes immediately fly to the harness, already equipped with the biggest dick he owns. 

“Not just yet.”

“But _sir_ ”

“You’ll still get fucked, big guy, and you’ll get to cum. But there’s been a change of plans.” He clambers up his body, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he goes. It’s the only piece of clothing left on him, worn because Barclay admitted that his buttoned-up demeanor that first night aided Josephs’ seduction of him more than he’d known. 

Joseph straddles his shoulders, tugs hard on the leash to force his head forward and up. Barclay growls, submissive, a contradiction in sounds Joseph had no knowledge of until the afternoon he spent edging the cook with his tongue. 

There’s no way his boyfriend can hold himself forward and use his mouth the way he needs to. Joseph grabs the back of his head, shoving him the rest of the way. He trusts Barclay to signal if the curve of his spine becomes too much.

“Suck my dick, pretty boy.”

A wet moan as lips close around his cock, his hips grinding to chase the warmth and friction of Barclays’ mouth. 

“Nnn, that’s it, lord, your mouth is perfect, I can’t believe it’s allllll mine” He drags his head in a delicious shape, “I’ve been wound up as long as you have, got so hard when you started begging for bigger I thought my brain would short out from sending all the energy to my cock. Ohyes, good boy, re-remember, the faster you get me off the sooner you get to cum.”

A determined huff and then his tongue finds the angle that puts just the right level of pressure on his cock. 

“Shit, that’s it, show me how well I taught you, show me just how good you are, lord, one of these days I’ll make you do this so long your jaw’ll be sore for a week, AHhnn, hah, should’ve known you’d like that idea. You’re so perfect Barclay, so good, so good, so goodgod, _yes_.” The orgasm uncoils the tension in his chest that’s been building since they started. As it does his fingers go slack, leash and Barclays’ head hitting the pillow one after the other.

“Now, sir?”

“Soon. I know it’s hard.” He chuckles at his own bad pun. 

“That doesn’t cover even fucking half of it, sir. You’re flooding all of my fucking senses, I already couldn’t think of anything but you and it’s like you’re surrounding me sir and we are this fucking close to seeing a grown-ass man crying from need.” It’s a joke, though desperation creeps into the corners of Barclays’ face. 

“Let me just get some water and we can keep going.” He lifts Barclays’ water bottle from the bedside table, offers it to him and steadies his head so he can drink. Takes a few small sips and clunks it back down. 

His legs aren’t thrilled that he wants them to keep working. But he promised his boyfriend the orgasm of a lifetime, and what Joseph Stern promises, Joseph Stern delivers. 

“Now” he does his best to smoothly slip into the harness, but even the boxer-cut ones require some wiggles, “you’ve done so well all day, I’m going to fuck you with this like you wanted. I’m almost tempted to order you to hold out until I say to ask to cum, but that seems like it might not be all that fun. And I want my sweet boy to enjoy himself.”

“I, I want to, sir. Wanna see how much I can take. That sounds so fucking fun.”

“Even though you’ve been in the cage over an hour?” 

“Uhuh”

Joseph takes his hand off Barclays' knee.

“Yes, sir.” 

“Good boy. Okay, I’m going to fuck you until you ask for mercy. Or my back gives out.”

“Babe, you’re thirty-three.”

“Yes, and if I sleep on my neck wrong, I wake up with a headache. The human body is an unpredictable thing at times.” He pours lube onto the cock, coating it until every inch shines. 

“Pretty sure I can predict what yours is about to do, sir. OH, ohfuck, ohgod, fucking _fuck_ me that’s big.”

“Too big?”

“N-no” Barclays chest moves with measured in and outs as Joseph pushes in little by little, “can you like, count to three and then just try the whole thing?”

Joseph nods. A yelp drowns out number three as he sinks all the way. 

“Good?”

“Yessir, ohmyfuckinggod.” His wrists twist in their cuffs, the tag on the collar catches the light, and Joseph gets his second wind. 

He pulls out halfway, shoves back in at the same moment he yanks the leash, his boyfriend crying out and gripping the chain of the cuffs.

“You look so good taking my cock, pretty boy. You’re staining the hell out of those nice underwear I bought you, but I don’t mind.” He settles on a pace that’s just fast enough that Barclay can’t catch his breath, being sure to thrust all the way whenever he whimpers, “you deserve everything you want, baby, and I’ll give it to you, because I take care of you, don’t I?”

“Y-yes, yes sir.”

The leash tightens in his hand and Barclay gasps when the collar presses into his neck, “that’s right, I do. That’s why you’re _mine_ , pretty boy. And I’m going to fuck like I own you, because that’s what you want, isn’t it?”

Barclay nods, eyes glinting with gleeful tears. Joseph puts slack in the leash, sets a hand under each of Barclays’ knees and pushes them towards his chest. His boyfriends’ voice is raw, the stream of profanity giving way to helpless moans as he pounds into him. 

“You look so good like this sweet boy, lord, think I might have to record you like this one of these days, something to jack off to when I'm lonely.”

“ _Yes_ ”

He lets one leg go to bring a hand up to Barclays’ chest, lightly pinching his nipple, "Good boy, letting me take him apart like the sweet thing he is."

"Mercy" Barclay gasps, clawing at the wooden slats, "mercy sir, please, wanna cum, _please_

"I can do that, big guy." He pulls the key from his shirt pocket, undoing the cage. Three strokes, in time with the snap of his hips, and his boyfriend cums with a cry all up his chest. 

Joseph ever-so-carefully slides the toy out, strips out of the underwear and tosses his shirt into the laundry hamper. Barclay unclips the cuffs himself, then flops weakly into the pillows. 

"What do you need, baby?" Joseph crawls so they're side by side, the cook managing to roll to smile his way. 

"Nothing. Just you."

He tucks mussed hair behind his ears, tracing his fingers along the curve of Barclays' cheek. There are moments of heaven on earth, he knows this. And then there are moments like this one, where heaven is a paltry descriptor. 

"I'm right here, Barclay. And there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

\---------------------------------------------------

“You gotta be kiddin me.” Duck turns the key in Subarus’ ignition. Nothing. 

“Okay, all we have to do is have someone go back to the last town, right?” Dani pulls up her phone, frowns when it shows no service. 

“Last town was forty-five minutes ago.”

“Arrgh, are you _serious_?” Aubrey bonks her forehead onto the back of the passenger seat. 

“I’m afraid that is not the end of our bad luck” Indrid points out the windshield, “those look very much like rain clouds.”

Duck rubs his forehead, “Okay, here’s what we do: we gotta push the car the rest of the way up this hill, so we don’t just start rollin backwards and lose control. After that, one of us is in for a long, long fuckin walk.”

\------------------------------------------------------------

Storms like this always put him right back to when Red Dust was first finished and en route to publication. One of the wettest springs on record hit the east bay and he holed up in his apartment, exhausted, doubting every word he ever put on a page. All that calmed him was sitting near the window as the elements battered the world. 

It soothes him just as much now, though his restlessness stems from happiness rather than worry. Barclay is still asleep in bed, having fallen asleep as Joseph finished their aftercare from this afternoon. Getting dinner ready seems the most practical option. They’d run into town yesterday, having fondue pots in the back of one cupboard and seized with the need to use them. He’d left Barclay with his credit card to get ingredients while he checked his messages, came back to a half-dozen shopping bags in the backseat. 

_“Uh, I was kinda on autopilot and bought like I was feeding a crowd. “_

_“Not to worry, it’s not like we won’t find a use for all of it.”_

Miraculously, Barclay did not try to keep apologizing, which Joseph counts as a compliment. It’s finally sinking in that Joseph is not about to move the bar on expectations, make Barclay run, jump, and bow trying to meet them only to scoff at him for his efforts. Barclay deserves clarity and acceptance just as much as he deserves love. 

There’s no noise save for the weather and the hum of the kitchen lights, so the knock at the door is like a gunshot. He jumps up, peers out the window to see two figures huddled on the porch. An extensive knowledge of horror makes his hand hesitate on the knob; if his lovely trip turns into some sort of home invasion thriller, he’s going to be pissed.

“Hello, can I help y--Duck? What on earth are you doing here?”

“I’m also here.” Indrid, shivering, waves at him with that odd smile of his. This is not enlightening. 

“So you are.”

“Uh, we, uh, we were out for a c-camping tent trip and, fuck, uh Aubrey and Dani came with us to, uh, to not? No, fuck-” The shorter man looks at his boyfriend for help.

“Ducks car broke down, and when it got dark we noticed the light on here. It seemed preferable to walking all the way back to town.”

“I see. Are the others still in the car?”

“Yeah, didn’t want us all gettin soaked if this turned out to be a dead-end.”

He smiles, hoping his warmth covers his suspicion, “You’re all welcome to come in. I’m glad you broke down close enough to here for help.”

“I’ll go get them. You stay here, love, you got twice as wet as I did thanks to your attempt to diagnose the problem with the car. I’ll be right back.” The lanky man disappears back into the darkness as Joseph ushers Duck inside. 

“Thanks for lettin us dry off here” Duck pulls off his soaked boots, “it’s real nice of you and-” he notices Josephs’ crossed arms and shuts his mouth.

“Duck, I’m going to ask you something, and I want you to tell me the truth. Without trying to lie in the interim, because it’s painful to watch. Did the four of you drive out here looking for Barclay and me?”

The younger man sighs, chagrined, “Yeah. It, fuck, it’s gonna sound so goddamn ridiculous I say it. We couldn’t get through to him, and we started gettin, uh, various degrees of worried and, well, we were due for a trip anyway, so we decided to head the way we knew you did.”

“You guys did _what_?” Barclay stands in the hallway in rumpled, hastily put on sweatpants and one of Josephs’ larger t-shirts. Were there not more pressing matters, he’d spend the next five minutes appreciating the way it stretches across his broad chest. 

“Look, we panicked okay? You ain’t exactly had the best luck with guys and Dani was worried you wouldn’t tell us if somethin went wrong, fuck, shouldn’t have said that.”

“Do you think Josephs a fucking axe murderer or something?” Barclay shouts as the front door bangs open.

“See? He’s fine.” Indrid points to him as Dani and Aubrey both dash inside. 

“Oh no” Barclay holds up his hands to stop their coming closer, “no hugs until you explain why the fuck you think you had to check on me.”

“We couldn’t get a hold of you-”

“-there’s no service”

“And the last two times you took trips like this with a guy, you came back worse for wear”

“Those are my exes!”

“Also, we could find no proof of Joseph being who he says or doing the job he claims to do.” Indrid wipes his glasses on his shirt, realizes this only smears water across them, and puts them back on with a shrug. 

Barclay starts to answer, then glances at Joseph “Babe?”

He crosses the rain-spattered floor, sets a hand on the cooks shoulder, “You’re not wrong, Indrid, there isn’t a lot of information about me out there. But that’s because I write under a pen name.”

“OH! Ugh, of <em>course” Aubrey shakes droplets from her hair.

“More than that, even if I was a secret agent or whatever else you might have guessed, I’d never do anything to hurt Barclay.” He sets a hand on that coppery beard, Barclay setting his own hand atop it. 

“Yeeah” Dani trades a look with the others. Or tries to, given they’re all studying the floor. 

“But” Joseph turns to them, “that doesn’t mean I won’t hurt him accidentally. Love is a learning process, one we all fuck up from time to time. As, um, startled as I am by your arrival, I’m glad Barclay has people who care about him so much. I don’t want his world to start and end with me. And I’m sorry if I came across as suspicious.”

“It wasn’t even that. Just seemed like you were more interested in learning about us than talkin’ about yourself and, uh, when we started worryin that kinda got interpreted as something more, uh, nefarious than it is.”

“Oh. Um, that’s a technique I picked up back when I first started working in the industry. People open up to you more if you ask them about themselves, and are less likely to find you a bore.”

The four groan, and Aubrey clears her throat, “Yeah, that all makes sense. Dang, I’m sorry Barclay. We really, _really_ fucked up, and we didn’t mean to mess up your time away. We should, um, probably go, right?” As she looks at the others for confirmation, his boyfriends’ expression shifts from on-guard to warm. Wistful.

“There’s no service, but there is a landline” Joseph tilts his head towards the phone in the living room, “and it seems silly for you four to huddle in the car waiting for help while this house is too big for just two of us.” He directs the question in his eyes at Barclay; this is his call.

The cook grins, “You guys wanna stay for dinner?”

It turns out that--at least for tonight--dinner for six is much more fun than fondue for two.

\------------------------------------------------------

“Happy nine months, babe.” The baritone rumbles over the phone, erasing the stress of the day from Josephs’ mind. He had two interviews today, and Hayes insists he stays in L.A another two days to schmooze some T.V execs hoping to give the _Peregrine Quintet_ a _Game of Thrones_ treatment. 

“Did you do as instructed?” He murmurs, crossing his legs and reclining on the pillows. 

“Yep, they’re all here.”

“Put me on speaker please.”

“Done.”

“Alright everyone, as promised, it’s time to share with you what books I’ve written. Are you familiar with Lucky Park?”

Cacophony erupts on the other end of the line and, over his boyfriends’ laughter he picks up a certain drawl.

“No FUCKIN way!”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

“Hey, sorry, but we’re closed.” Barclay focuses on counting out the bills in the register. 

“That’s too bad. I hear a guy can find some hot stuff here.” 

He slams the cash drawer, sprinting around the counter to lift his boyfriend in a hug. Joseph kisses him mid-spin, keeps their lips together as they come to a stop, dizzily bumping the nearby tables. 

"Traffic was lighter than usual. I made great time."

"Not tempted to stay in the bright lights of Hollywood?"

A snort, "No chance. Not when the most important person is waiting for me here."

"You bet I was. Could hardly focus all day, Thacker kept teasing me that they were gonna find a fingertip in a scone. All I wanted to do was sit at the window and watch the door until you came back."

"Like a six-foot puppy?" All the love in the world crams into those five words.

Barclay kisses him, "Exactly."


End file.
